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LIBRARY^ CONGRESS. 

Shelf . C t 

PRESENTED BY \ O^l^- 

-^lii.-a._cwyLJL 

.UNITED STATES OrAMERICA. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



Mr. W. A. Croffut's Writings. 



The Military and Civil History of Connecticut 
during the Rebellion. 

By W. A. Croffut in Collaboration with John M. Morris ; 
891 pp.; Plates Iviii. Price, $5.00. Ledyard Bill, 
New York, publisher ; 18G9. 



" This is au admirable rooorcl of the career of our soldiers for f^nr years 
throngU mareU aiiil hospital, camp and battle, for which the thanks of the State 
are due you." — Goo. Buckiwjhatn. 

"Connecticut will be proud of this book and its exhibit." — Hartford Courant. 



" Au amazing claim is here made for Connecticut and ajiparently well suji- 
ported. The in'eface says : 'Not only Winthroj), Ellsworth, Lyon, Foote, Sedg- 
wick, Mansfield, Wadsworth, McGUllan, Mower, Wriglit, Terry, Ilawley, but 
William Tecuinseh Sherman and Ulysses S. Grant, sprang straight from the 
loins of our sturdy little commonwealth.' " — New Haven Palladium.. 



" * • * plain, comprehensive and coniijaet. While entering into many 
details of the co-operation of the common people, it is at once heroic and pa- 
thetic. • * * As any book dealing with the State's recent history must, it 
leaves brave Joe Ilawley way up on the front seat." — Korioich Bulletin. 



" What business has the Connecticut Legislature to rob the people of the State 
by subscribing for two thousand copies of such a book as i\\\si1"— Bridgeport 
Farmer 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



ivir. W. A. Croffut's Writings. 



A Helping Hand for American Homes. 

By W. A. Croffut in Collaboration with Dr. Lyman C. 
Draj^er, Secretary of the Wisconsin Historical 
Society; Introduction (7 pages) by Horace Greeley; 
821 pages; 117 illus. Price, $4.00. Charles F. 
Wilstach & Co., Cincinnati, publishers ; 1870. 



" Invaluable in garden and kitchen." — American Farmer. 



" A mammoth compendium of the wisest and most valuable suggestions for 
the care of farm and home." — Rural New Yorker. 



" Greeley comes to the front again witli a lecture to our farmers and husband- 
men on certain points, expressed in his sledge-hammtr earnestness. It is illus- 
trated from his own practical experience at Chapauqua." — Prairie Farmer. 



" It can not be said that this bulky volume adds anything to the sum total of 
human knowledge, for neither Croffut nor Draper is a doctor, or a carpenter, or 
a floriculturist, or a husbandman, or even a cook as far as heard from, but this 
is a useful compilation in convenic nt form of twenty-five thousand important 
bits of human experience concerning these things, and Horace Greeley compli- 
ments the compilers by introducing their book to the public through several 
characteristic pages." — Mihoaukee Sentinel. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



Mr. W. A. Croffut's Writings. 



Bourbon Ballads. 

Humorous political songs, one hundred in number, 
written by W. A. Croffut for the New York Tribune ; 
1879. Second Ed., 10 cents. 



"There is a person oouuected with the staff of the N. Y. Tribune who is 
employed to blackguard everybody wlio differs from him, iu iufamoasly 
wretched doggerel."— A'. O. Times. 

"These 'Bourbon Ballads,' which for months have appeared at frequent in- 
tervals in the New York Tribune, have now been collected and published in a 
large edition. They are, without doubt, the most telling political thrusts that 
have ever appeared iu English rhyme."— CAicar/o Inter-Ocean. 



" This dreadful drivel is enough to make a horse sick and is ruining the 
Tribune's ancient reputation for good grammar and decency." — Cincinnati En- 
quirer. 

" Whitclaw Eeid ! Haul off your hireling slanderer ! "—Chicago Record. 



" Mr. Whitclaw Beid, the comic part of the Tribune, has ceased' to write any 
more of those fine, soul-stirring ballads which made his paper so popular with 
all Bourbons, and the Bourbon Secretary of the Senate has been compelled to 
discontinue it.'"— Donn Piatt. 

" Croffut's ballads are more (!opiid than anything that ever emanated from the 
combined pens of his maliguers. "Sorristown Herald. 



•' Even the satirized sub.jects of the " Bourbon Ballads ' have laughed over them." 
— Washington Star. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



Mr. W. A. Croffut's Writings. 



Deseret; or ji Saint's AfflictioiLs; Au Opera. 

Libretto by \Y. A. Croftut ; music by Diidloy Buck. This 
comic opera on Mormonism was first produced witli 
a chorus of seventy singers, in Brooklyn, N. Y., in 
October, 1880. 



"Deseret, anew eomio ojiera, was performed last eveiiiug at Haverly's before 
a large aiidieuce, and was received with cou.siderablo favor. By i-easou of its 
l^retty imisic aud amusing story it is merry and entertaining, and last night it 
was much ajiplauded aud frequently interrupted with genuine and hearty 
laughter. Messrs. Buck aud Croflfut were called before the curtain almost 
prematurely, garlanded with flowers and ' speech ! ' ' speech ! ' vainly demanded 
of them."— jV. Y. Herald, Oct. 14, 1880. 

•' Mr. W. A. Croflfut, whoso brilliant ' Graphicalities ' gave the Graphic great 
popularity aud who has more recently made a national rei)utation through his 
clever 'Bourbon Ballads' in the Tribune, has filled with happy conceits the 
libretto of ' Deseret,' uow at the Brooklyn." — Ilome Journal. 

" Thanks to Mr. CrofFnt's bright aud original libi'ctto, and Mr. Dudley 
Buck's strong aud scholarly music, the oi)era coiild not be killed with kindness, 
aud it ended, at a late hour, with something vei'y like a genuine success. * * 
There arc fortunes in it for all concerned. All through the country it will draw 
crowded houses and be warmly praised." — Sj^lrit of the Times. 

"Deseret survived the amateurs on the stage aud the amateurs in front of the 
house, and it will make its mark and lead to a successful rivalry of Sullivan aud 
Gilbert, if not of Offenbach, Herve and Lecocq." — X Y. Daily Times. 

" Deseret goes back, rather, toward the genuine comic opera of older times, 
aud is after the French more than the modern English school." — jV. Y. Tribune. 

" The Mormon opera, Deseret, has captured success, and since leaving this 
city has been given in Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, Cincinnati, St. 
Louis and Chicago and is now in its eighth week."— X 1'. World. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



Mr. W. A. Croffut's Writings. 



A Midsuinmer Lark. 

A book of travels in verse ; by W. A. Croffut. New 
York; Heury Holt & Co., 1883. IGmo., pp. xii, 
25G. Price, $1.25. (Leisure Hour Series, No. 150.) 



" Both tho matter and the form of his book are well calculated to attract at- 
tentiou and to afford amusement. The whole of it, from dedication to fluis. 
is cast in rhyme, and it is altogether such a jolly, rollicking sort of a 'lark' 
that the worst tempered man in the world could not help laughing over it. It is 
genuinely and spontaneously bright and wi tty."-St. Paul Pioneer Press. 

"Old routes take ou new chiirms mider Mr. Croffut's lively haudliug."- 
Buffalo Courier. 

" This is a whimsical humorous story of the haps and mishaps of a party of 
merry travelers. The whole thing is a literary joke, strongly marked w,th the 
characteristics of the author, who is one of the wittiest and most farile writers 
connected with American journalism."— 3fm?icaj5oh8 Tribune. 

» One of the very jolliest books of the season, the best to take into Ui ■ country, 
to real aloud to those who are sick, and those who are blue, and with much 
sense, wisdom and pathos beneath its wit and humor. "-Z)«>/iorc.sr.s Xonthlii. 

" The most depressing of printed books."— Deiroif Free Press. 

" Crofifut has made a hit with this volume."— iV. F. World. 

" The book is unique— a fantastic conceit in rhyme. Even the preface, the 
running title and the foot-notes rhymn."— Indianapolis Journal. 

"Beginning the closely printed pages that have all the app .arance of prose 
pure and simple, the reader is surprised at the ringing measure and the rhythmic 
form straightway encountered, and as with mingled wit and easa and grace the 
recital glides and flows smoolhly on through chapter after chapter, never be- 
coming tedious, its unique style rather growing richer, its interest waxing fullcn 
surprise changes to amaze at the rare and peculiar ability the work displays. 
It i<s of its kind inimitable and beyond improvement."— xV. 0. Times- Democrat. 



" This Midsuruui!'.' Laik really carols iu musical strain. The book is a poem 
of many metres. Not satisfied with writing poetical prose, the author has given 
Us prose (but far fro;n ijrosy) poetry. At first the incongruity of vehicle and 
sentiment jars upon the reader. It is too like a farce to quite satisfy a refined 
taste. But, as the rhythmical lines flow on from page to page and as one notes 
th<i vividness of the scenes i^ortrayed and marks the esprit of the whole the 
shocked conventional judgment insensibly merges into an amused toleration 
and this in turn becomes undisguised and genial approval. Many of the descrip- 
tions are fine poetry ; but the comments upon the ' old masters ' and such points 
as the Tarpeian Kock and Appian Way are marked by the same shrew.1, possibly 
rude, mother wit as that famous volume of Mark Twain which first shook the 
autocracy of antiquity. We can conceive of no book, admittedly "'ritten to 
amuse its readers, which can be found to yield more entertainment in propor- 
tion to its information." — Chicago Tribune. 

" A Midsummer Lark is the most daring literary adventure that has been at- 
tempted for years. There never was anything like it jjublished before. No one 
b'lt the man whose name lies on the title page would have conceived such an 
idea, and his most ardent admirer and steadfast friend could not have expected 
it to hi carried fully out Mr. Croffut has long been recognized as a genius by 
those who are familiar with his versatility, his wonderful power of imagination 
and his infinite humor ; he is an audacious and remorseless punster, and has a wit 
that brings a spark whenever it strikes friend or foe. He is always doing some- 
thing or writing something— the busiest man in New York " — Chicago Inter- 
Ocean. 

" Somebody has said, ' When you see a humorist, kill him on the spot — with 
kindness.' Nobody can help having a kindly feeling for the man who puts 
everybody iu good humor and provokes laughter in all sorts of unexpected was's. 
A genuine humorist is a walking and talking sunbeam, radiating cheerfulness 
wherever he goes. And if he does not x^roducr; explosions of merriment, he fills 
the mind with that pleasurable content whicli balms all wounds and makes one 
oblivious of everything but present enjoyment. Since Mark Twain's ' Innocents 
Abroad ' we have had no such delightful, fun-iirovokiug book about Europe as 
Croflfut's ' Midsummer Lark.' " — K Y. Sun. 



'•This unique narrative of a lark with congenial companions through Scot- 
land, England, and over the continent, forms one of the popular Leisure Hour 
series, and is as bright and sparkling and fresh as though no lino had ever been 
read about foreign travels." — Boston Herald. 

" Croffut's humor is lighter and daintier than Mark Twain's, but it is quite as 
genuine and does not tire so soon. And the oldest inhabitant will aver tliat he 
never saw Europe done up in such a style before." — If. V. Star. 

"Of all the trash that was ever written, this takes the cake." — Rochater 
Democrat. 

" So far as we remember, nothing of the kind has ever been done before except 
by Moore, who in his ' Rhymes on the Road ' attempted to leave in poetic form 
the reuiinisceaccs of a jjoet's journey." — Buffalo Cuurier. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



Mr. W. A. Croffut*s Writings. 



The Vanderbilts and the Story of their Fortune. 

By VV. A. Croffut; New York and Chicago; Belford, 
Clarke & Co., 1886. IGmo., pp. xii, 310; Illus- 
trated. Price, $1.50. Third edition, 1894. 



" This volume is an interesting, timely and suggestive history of tho Vander- 
bilt family, of their lives and efforts, and is as entertaining as any novel. But 
the chief element of value in the work just now is the ijlainness with which it is 
made to appear that the Vanderbilts have been tho accumulators of wealth, 
which, while it has enriched them, has at the same time been of far greater bene- 
fit to the community as a whole." — Chicago Times. 



" This work reads almost like a fairy tale, giving, as it does, an accurate 
history, drawn from authoritative sources, of the methods by which the great 
Vanderbilt fortune has been built up." — Harper's Weekly. 



" If this book could bj iilaced in every family it would exterminate socialism 
in America." — N. Y. Tribune. 

"It is not to be denied that tho ijersonal career of such an aggressive, ava- 
ricious and remorseless ' Captain of Industry ' as the old Commodore makes inter- 
esting reading, but ' The Vanderbilts ' is a book to keep out of the hands of the 
growing youth of this land who need an exemplar. The fewer Napoleons and 
Corneliuses the world has the better off for all men. It would shock even 
Ca,ilyle."—Albani/ Argus. 

" This is a book to place in the possession of American boys. It ought to be in 
every Sunday school as a stimulant to upright ambition."— Brooklyn Times. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



Mr. W. A. Croffut's Writings. 

{fii Press.) 

Folks Next Door. 

Albany; Century Press Co., 1894; 8vo, pp. 224; lUU 
illustrations. Price, 50 cents. 

Silhouettes of travel-scenes in Labrador, Nova Scotia, 
the Bermudas, Cuba, Mexico, and Yucatan. 

(/?i Preparation.') 

Labor's Riddle Guessed At. 

A consideration of the Relations of the Capitalist, the 
Inventor, and the Workingman, and of their respective 
Shares in Pi'oduction and Distribution. 

{In Preparation.) 

The Open Gate of Dreamland. 

A complete Hand-book of Hypnotism, describiuj^ mes- 
meric sleep in its different phases from lucidity to 
catalepsy, with definite instructions hov/ to induce 
hypnosis. 

"Just after receiving the degree of Pli. D. from Uuion College, Dr. AV. A. 
CroiTut was blackballed by tho Cosmos Club of Washington, on the ground that 
he practised hypnotism ! We are now prepared to hear that it has expelled 
somebody for practising astronomy." — Providence Journal. 

{In Preparation.) 

Under Twelve Administrations. 

A free-hand Chronicle of Life, Manners and Methods 

in the Capital of the Republic, from Buchanan to . 

In two volumes, royal octavo. (To appear about 1898.) 

This work will be a narrative combining a historical 
outline with much incident and anecdote about public 
men and measures — a sort of life mask of the city of 
Washington in the last half of the Nineteenth Century. 



THE PROPHECY 



JlLiJD 



©tbcr poems 



Wr Af CROFFUT 

author of 

"a midsummer lark," "the vanderbilts," "folks next door," 

"deseret," etc. 



NEW YORK 

LOVELL BROTHERS COMPANY 

32 AND 34 Lafayette Place 






T 






15193 




TO HER 

WHO IS TO ME 

WIFE, MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 

IF Dedicate tbts book 



PEEFACE. 



With the exception of the first, the poems in this 
book are printed in somewhat the chronological order oJ 
their production. No attempt has been made to segre- 
gate the serious from the humorous, or the occasion 
poems from the poems of legend or of locality, except 
in the ample classification of the table of contents. If 
this lack of arrangement gives to the volume the char- 
acter of a melange of grave and gay, it can not seem 
more heterogeneous or incongruous than were the events 
and moods in which it had its origin. 

With three or four excej)tions, these poems have all 
found place in various periodicals, and I am under obli- 
gations to the publishers of the Century, Puck, Harper's 
Weekly, the New York Graphic, Tribune, World and 
Sun, the Home Journal and the Washington Post, for 
permission to assemble the waifs together within these 
covers. 

I have rescued from the somewhat obscure prose- 
forms of " A Midsummer Lark " six of the poems 
hidden thereunder and, after revision, have introduced 
them here. The strong temptation to include more of 
them, and also to reprint some of the songs from 



PREFACE. 



"Deseret" which the eminent composer, Mr. Dudley 
Buck, set to hvel}' and stirring music, has been success- 
fully resisted. 

The fortuitous nature of this collection, and especially 
the transiency of some of the events and the obscurity 
of some of the places referred to, have made it appar- 
ently desirable to introduce at the close of the book a 
few pages of notes to explain what might otherv/ise be 
unfamiliar or unintelligible. 



PROLOGUE. 



" I can not rest me till they come ! " he cried, 
And from the hut his shepherd's reed he blew. 
The honeyed note in sweet cajolery flew 

O'er desert sands and up the mountain wide ; 

And as in dells its fainting echo died, 

The grazing flocks Arcadian heard and knew 
The loving call, aad, moist with evening dew, 

The motley creatures hastened to his side. 

" O, flocks uncouth ! " a wandering traveler thought, 

"Ill-bred, ill-chosen—" " Ah ! how fair they be ! " 
The rustic spake, " what pleasure have they brought ! 

I could not rest till they had come to me. 

For with them I have lived and laughed and wept." 
And then the happy swain lay calmly down and slept. 



OONTEII^TS. 



Occasions. page. 

The Prophecy 1 

" Going to Thauksgiviug " , 12 

Resiirgam, Chicago ; 1872 13 

A New Year Summary 4() 

Ouly Yesterday 4;! 

Thanksgiving 50 

Received by his Prototype — 1893 6C 

The 1st re. 74 

Christmas Day (song) 7G 

Christmas Morning 85 

Charles Darwin, D. C. L 87 

Brother Jonathan to Dom Pedro 88 

Uncle Sam to Prince Fushimi of Jajiau 93 

Thanksgiving 96 

A Hero of Bennington 100 

The President's Au revoir 103 

The Soldier's Daughter 104 

May Day 108 

The King of the Cannibal Islands 110 

The Day we Celebrate 117 

A Vision— 1892 „ . ^ 121 

In 1864... ■ 143 

Places. 

The Sagnenay 7 

The Thousand Islands , 9 

The Bay of Fundy's Tides 24 

The Haunted Lake at Coopcrsto wn 51 

The Story of Cape Despair 57 

Mount Hope, Narragansett Bay 63 

Lover's Leap 70 

Off Vera Cruz (a ballade) 99 

The Rhine 139 

Pisa to Genoa 142 

Sonnets. 

U. S. Grant 35 

John O. Fremont 35 

ix 



X CONTENTS. 

FAOE. 

Lucius Quintus Cincinnatus Lamar 36 

Thurlow Weed 36 

Juarez, the Deliverer 37 

Samuel Bowles 37 

Thomas Simms 38 

To Italy 147 

Indian Legends. 

The Bay of Fundy's Tides 24 

The Legeud of Pelot's Bay , 46 

The Hauuted Lake at Cooperstown 51 

The Friar of Campobello 53 

Mount Hope, Narragansett Bay 63 

Lover's Leap 70 

HUMOUOtlS. 

" Going to Thanksgiving " 12 

They Think 20 

A Dream of Parnassus 21 

Cold weather Observations 38 

Pensive 42 

Compensation 50 

Sensitiveness 62 

" Said a great Congregational preaeher " £5 

Tlianksgiving. . 56 

Tlie Balance of Rights 60 

The Fugitives of Pouobscot 61 

Sentiment 64 

Received by his Prototype 66 

Scarcely baueath his Notice 72 

"Why is a—?" 73 

Cold weather Keflections 75 

" If Lazarus was liviu- now " 75 

Truthful Biddy 82 

A Russian Legend 83 

Charles Darwin, D. C. L 87 

A Salt-sea Specter 94 

A Hero of Bennington 100 

The President's Au revoir 103 

Reflections 107 

May Day 108 

A bloodless Do-ill 109 

The King of the Cannibal Islands — 110 

In contrast 114 

The Day we Celebrate 117 

The Megatherium 126 

A Say on Man 134 

In 1864 143 

A Warning 145 

Concerning Kedigton. 

What the Voice said > 5 

A Dream of Death 16 



CONTENTS. Xi 

FAQE. 

Giiibord at the Gate 30 

The silent Horseruau 68 

Perhaps 81 

Christinas Morning 85 

Keijly to Bishop Coxc 102 

The Toiler 127 

The Arrival of the IMessiah 147 

In the Hospital 152 

Immortality 158 

MiSCELLAKEOUS. 

April 14 

Two Breakfast Dishes 15 

To Brigham Young 15 

The Lightning Train 28 

Echoes on the Side WiUl 31 

Plea for Captain Mary 33 

George B. McClellau UU 

A New Year Summary 40 

Liberty yearning to Light the Wor;d 42 

Guy Fawkes, Wilkes Booth, Thomassen 45 

The Story of Cape Desjiair 57 

On retiring from OlSce 59 

The Balance of Rights . . . co 

Comment on his Later Verses C5 

The yacht Falcon (song) 77 

Charles Sumner, 1874 78 

Kobins in the Morning 79 

R. B. H. to S. J. T.— 1877 80 

To a Lizard in Amber 89 

Love on Skates 91 

A Salt-sea Specter <J4 

Open Letter to Brigham Young 98 

Off Vera Cruz 99 

Nineteen hundred and ninety-five 112 

To my Great-great-grandmother's Portrait 115 

Silhouettes— imi)r^imptu 118 

The Fort at St. John 122 

Song of the Silk-loom 131 

The best Government 133 

Our Flag 13G 

Crook and the Apaches— 1887 137 

A Word for the Kanakas. . 13g 

A Living Memory 144 

A Thorouglifare under the Ocean. . 143 



THE PROPHECY — 1492. 

Read at the Opening of the World's Columbian Exposition 
at Chicago, Illinois, May i, 1893. 
Sadly Columbus watched the nascent moon 
Drown in the Gloomy Ocean's western deeps. 

Strange birds that day had fluttered in the sails, 

And strange flowers floated round the wandering keel, 

And yet no land. And now, when thro the dark 

The Santa Maria leaped before the gale. 

And angry billows tossed the caravels. 

As to destruction, Gomez Rascon came 

With Captain Pinzon thro the frenzied seas, 

And to the Admiral brought a parchment scroll. 

Saying. "Good Master: Read this writing here; 

An earnest prayer it is from all the fleet. 

The crew would fain turn back in utter fear. 

No longer to the Pole the compass points. 

The sailor's star reels dancing down the sky. 

You saw but yestereve an albatross 

Drop dead on deck beneath the flying scud. 

The Devil's wind blows madly from the east 

Into the land of Nowhere, and the sea 

Keeps sucking us adown the maelstrom's maw. 

Francisco says the edge of earth is near, 

And off to Erebus we slide unhelmed. 



THE FROPITECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Last Sunday night Diego saw a witch 

Dragging the Nina by her forechains west 

And wildly dancing on a dolphin's back; 

And, as she danced, the brightest star in heaven 

Slipped from its leash and sprang into the sea, 

Like Lucifer, and left a trail of blood. 

O, Master, hear me ! — turn again to Spain, 

Obedient to the omens, or, perchance. 

The terror-stricken crew, to escape their doom, 

May mutiny and — " 

"Gomez Rascon, peace!" 
Exclaimed the Admiral, " thou hast said enough I 
Now, prithee, leave me. I would be alone." 

Then eagerly Columbus sought a sign. 

In sea and sky and in his lonely heart. 

But found, instead of presages of hope. 

The black and ominous portents of despair. 

The wild wind roared around him, and he heard 

Shrill voices shriek " Return ! — return ! — return ! " 

He thought of Genoa and dreams of youth. 

His father's warning and his mother's prayers, 

Confiding Beatriz, her prattling babe. 

The life and mirth and warmth of old Castile, 

And tempting comfort of the peaceful land. 

And sad winds moaned "return ! — return ! — return ! " 

As thus he mused, he paced the after deck 
And gazed upon the luminous waves astern. 
Strange life was in the phosphorescent foam, 
And thro the goblin glow there came and went, 
Like elfin shadows on an opal sea, 
Prophetic pictures of the laud he sought. 



The; prophecy. 3 

He saw the end of his victorious quest. 
He saw, ablaze on Isabella's breast, 
The gorgeous Autillean jewels rest — 
The Islands of the West ! 

He saw invading Plenty dispossess 
Old Poverty, the land with bounty bless, 
A.nd thro the wailing caverns of Distress 
Walk star-eyed Happiness ! 

He saw the Bourbon and Braganza prone, j 
For ancient error tardy to atone, 
Giving the plundered people back their own 
And flying from the throne. 

He saw an empire radiant as the day, 
Harnessed to law but under Freedom's sway, 
Proudly arise, resplendent in array. 
To show the world the way. 

He saw celestial Peace in mortal guise. 
And, filled with hope and thrilled with high emprise, 
Lifting its tranquil forehead to the skies, 
A vast republic rise. 

He saw, beyond the hills of golden corn. 
Beyond the curve of Autumn's opulent horn, 
Ceres and Flora laughingly adorn 
The bosom of the morn. 

He saw a cloth of gold across the gloom, 
An arabesque from Evolution's loom, 
And from the barren prairie's driven spume 
Imperial cities bloom. 



THK prophe;cy and othe;r poems. 

He saw an iron dragon dashing forth 
On pathways East, and West, and South and North, 
Its bonds uniting in beneficent girth 
Remotest ends of earth. 

He saw the lightnings run an elfin race, 
Where trade and love and pleasure interlace, 
And severed friends in Ariel's embrace 
Communing face to face. 

He saw Relief thro deadly dungeons grope ; 
Foes turn to brothers, black despair to hope. 
And cannon rust along the grass-grown slope. 
And rot the gallows rope. 

He saw the babes on Labor's cottage floor, 
The bright walls hung with luxury more and more, 
And Comfort, radiant with abounding store. 
Wave welcome at the door. 

He saw the myriad spindles flutter round ; 
The myriad mill-wheels shake the solid ground ; 
The myriad homes where jocund joy is found, 
And Love is throned and crowned. 

He saw exalted Ignorance imder ban. 
Though panoplied in force since time began. 
And Science, consecrated, lead the van. 
The Providence of man. 

The pictures came and paled and passed away. 
And then the Admiral turned as from a trance. 
His lion face aglow, his luminous eyes 
Lit with mysterious fire from hidden suns : 
" Now, Martin, to thy waiting helm again ! 
Haste to the Pinta ! Fill her sagging sails, 



the; prophecy. i 

For on my soul hath dawned a wondrous sight. 

Lo ! — thro this segment of the watery world 

Uprose a hemisphere of glorious life ! — 

A realm of golden grain and fragrant fruits, 

And men and women wise and masterful, 

Who dwelt at peace in rural cottages 

And splendid cities bursting into bloom — 

Great lotus blossoms on a flowery sea. 

And happiness was there, and bright-winged Hope — 

High Aspiration, soaring to the stars ! 

And then methought, O, Martin, through the storm 

A million faces turned on me and smiled. 

Now go we forward — forward ! — fear avaunt ! 

I will abate no atom of my dream. 

Though all the devils of the underworld 

Hiss in the sails and grapple to the keel ! 

Haste to the Pinta ! Westward keep her prow, 

For I have had a vision full of light ! 

Keep her prow westward in the sunset's wake 

From this hour hence and let no man look back ! " 



Then from the Pinta's foretop fell a cry — 

A trumpet-song— ' ' L,ight-ho ! Light-ho ! Ivight-ho ! ' ' 



WHAT THE VOICE SAID. 

Christmas Eve ! My sad repining 
Vanished as the raindrops ceased ; 

Presto! — bright the sun came shining, 
And a rainbow spanned the east, 
From Apollo's sheaf released. 



The prophecy and other poems. 

Then my soul, escaped from sorrow, 

Sent aloft the jubilant cry 
" We shall have a pleasant morrow — 

I/O ! the glorious reply ! 

Lo ! the Promise in the sky ! " 

Morning came. I watched uncertain, 
Waiting on the gathering gloom. 

Till I saw the sable curtain 
Woven in the cloudy loom — 
Heard afar the thunder boom. 

Heaven insensate loosed its fountains 
From the troubled zenith then, 

And the storm roared down the mountains, 
Flooding wide the haunts of men 
As to drown the world again. 

And a Voice fell thro the changes: 

"Thou art vanity, O Man ! 
Thou would'st have the infinite ranges 

Moulded to thy puerile plan — 

Stunted to thy petty span. 

"Thou would'st bid eternal forces 
Bring thee sun or bring thee shower — 

Bid the strong-winged universes 
I^end their everlasting power 
To the whimsey of an hour. 

'•Thou would'st wreck the firm foundation 
Of all chemic change, and mar 

The love-story of creation. 

Thou would'st have the morning star 
Harnessed to thy pygmy car ! 



THE SAGUENAY. 

"Ill this circling realm of order 
If a praj'er or plea could cause, 

From the center to the border 
Where the tide of being draws, 
Any lapse of Nature's laws, 

"Planets would go headlong rocking; 
Stars would perish one by one, 

All their orbits interlocking ; 

Earth would plunge into the sun 
And thy midget race be run !" 

Gods are impotent as fairies ; 
Devils weak as shadows are ; 

For the arm of Nature parries 
Uvery weapon, near and far, 
Like the sword, Excalibar. 

Bound in obdurate conditions. 
Vain is our unheeded cry. 

All our longings and petitions 
Come, and linger and pass by, 
Ivike the colors on the sky ! 



THE SAGUENAY. 

Rejoice, my soul, for thou hast had 

Right royal company to-day ; 

Attired in spruce and hemlock spray 
She came, so savage, grand and sad. 
Queen of the northern woods, the peerless Saguenay. 



8 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Draped in the twilight's lilac veil 

She moved, all modestly bedight ; 

Then, as the regnant orb of night 
A vesture flung o'er hill and dale. 
She caught the sheen and robed her lustrous limbs with light. 

Where'er our vapory dragons go. 
The dryads of this somber hall, 
And nymphs and gnomes are banished all — 

All, save the mighty Manito 
Who hides within his caves and answers to our call. 

Disguised behind our ver}' tone 
His voice is strange and full of tears ; 
Each plaint of sadness reappears — 
The songs of death by wild winds blown, 
The battle's muffled yells, the dirge of vanished years. 

No life in all these solitudes ! 

No bird on all the haunted shore ! 

Here pygmy man may bow before 
Stern Nature's elemental moods, 
And learn to reverence her spirit more and more. 

The sun seems alien. Sheer above 
Ivoom the precipitate mountains vast 
And o'er the abyss their menace cast, 
While, in each iron-buttressed cove 
Gloom lurks and scowls until the intrusive da)' be past. 

Ivoch Lomond of a wilder West ! 
We list for Roderick's martial strain, 
And watch where Rob Roy's plaid again 

May flutter from some craggy crest. 
Or Ellen's fairy skiff may skim the shining plain, 



THE THOUSAND ISIyANDS. 

Or heather blossom where the hill 
Hath put its purple garment on ; 
The vision comes, and lo ! is gone ; 
The grand unfathomed fissure still 
Stretches away — away — a thousand lakes in one ! 

No grim sarcophagus thou art, 
But cradle of a life to be 
And temple of its majesty ; 
The very silence of the heart 
That throbs in thine abyss, a message brings to me. 

Then sing, my soul ! for thou hast had 
Right royal company to-day ; 
In evergreens and granite gray 
She came, magnificently clad, — 
Queen of the northern woods, the savage Saguenay ! 

THE THOUSAND ISLANDS.2 

My wandering soul is satisfied : 
I rest where blooming islands ride 
At anchor on the tranquil tide. 

The sky of summer shines serene, 
And sapphire rivers lapse between 
The thousand bosky shields of green. 

I know the tale the red man sung : 

How, when this northern land was young 

And by a smiling heaven o'erhung. 

Its beauty stirred the Arch-fiend's ire 
Till, burning with insane desire, 
He smote it with a shaft of fire 



THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

And shattered it to fragments. " See ! " 

He cried with diabolic glee, 

*' The Paradise that mocked at me ! 

" 'Tis sunk beneath the wave. No trace 
Is left of all its native grace 
And witchery of loveliness ! " 

But Time repairs the wreck of old, 
And veils, with touches manifold. 
The shining shards with green and gold. 

The sad wounds hide in tender moss, 
And ferns and lichens creep across 
And each pathetic scar emboss. 

The pine its coronal uprears. 
And banished beauty reappears 
'Neath the caresses of the years. 

The fairy-land again has grown ; 
The Huron's god has found a throne, 
And Manito reclaims his own. 

And so the summer shines serene, 
And sapphire rivers lapse between 
The thousand bosky shields of green. 

And so I drift in silence where 
Young Echo, from her granite stair, 
Flings music on the mellow air, 

O'er rock and rush, o'er wave and brake, 
Until her phantom carols wake 
The voices of the island lake. 

The mystic strains of long ago, 

The savage cries to Manito, 

And coru-song soaring, sweet and low; 



THE THOUSAND ISI^ANDS. 

The pleading prayer of old Francois ; 
The paddle-plash of Charlevoix ; 
Tlie murmurs of the Iroquois ; 

The angelus of Pere Marquette — 
I hear its cadence falling yet 
From the lone spire of La Galette. 

The Past comes babbling everywhere, 
As Echo, from her granite stair, 
Flings music on the mellow air. 

I hear the menace from afar ; 
I hear the frenzied voice of war 
Burst from the guns of De la Barre. 

I hear Moore's melodies again — 

The sweetness of "La Claire Fontaine " 

Drops down like sunshine after rain. 

O'er rock and rush, o'er wave and brake, 
Young Echo's phantom carols wake 
The myriad voices of the lake. 

Beneath my skiff the long grass slides, 
The muskallonge in covert hides 
And pickerel flash their silver sides, 

And purple vines the naiads wore, 
A-tiptoe on the liquid floor. 
Nod welcome to my pulsing oar. 

The shadow of the waves I see, 
Whose luminous meshes seem to be 
The love-web of Penelope. 

It shimmers on the yellow sands, 
And as, beneath the weaver's hands, 
It creeps abroad in throbbing strands, 



12 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

The braided sunbeams softly shift, 
And unseen fingers, flashing swift, 
Unravel all the golden weft. 

So, day by day, I drift and dream 
Among fair solitudes that seem 
The crowning glory of the stream. 



" GOING TO THANKSGIVING." 

" Come, Children ; to-morrow is Thanksgiving Day ; 

Get ready." " Yes, papa ; hooray and hooray ! 

We've been up an hour and are ready to go ; 

It's jolly to visit our grandfather, though ! 

O, never mind breakfast ; we'll eat at Podunk — 

A ostrich might fill hisself out of the trunk." 

"Mamma! where's my stocking?" "There — under the stove.' 

" Augustus, come up here !" " What is it, my love ?" 

" O, run ! O, come quick ! It is dreadful, my dear, 

The baby has poked several beans in his ear. 

And swallowed his trumpet, as sure as you live." 

" Impossi — why, no, Jane, it's here, up his sleeve." 

" Come on ! We'll be left ! We must hurry ! Where's Fred ? 

Sue, run back and find him." " He's gone on ahead !" 

" All aboard for Podunk !" " O, Conductor ! Stop ! Wait ! 

I'll hev to go back jest as certain as Fate — 

The tickets — I left em — they're on the settee !" 

" No, father, you took 'em." " Maud, run back and see 

If they're in the — Maria, perhaps they're in that — 

By George ! here they be in the crown of my hat !" 

"Hold on! Where's that — " "Ma! I want something to eat." 

" Here's jelly cake. Don't get a muss on the seat." 

" O, here 'tis. I found it. Right under my feet." 



RESURGAM. CHICAGO ; 1872. I3 

" I'm almost distracted my dear." " So be I— 

This racket ! — it seems jest as if I should fly — 

Seven children, and boxes and bundles and all, 

And—" " Waaa ! " "O, you baby! Nowwhy don't you bawl ? 

I scarcely didn't touch you ! " " Don't bother him, Fred !" 

'• I didn't ! But he hit his old whip on my head." 

" Ma, Em's lost her hat off ! " " Ma, Jennie's doll's broke." 

" Ma, Johnny has went in the car where they smoke." 

" There ! Now you've tipped over and spilt all the tea. 

" Hush, baby ! O, hush ! You're as cross as can be." 

[" Pe-quannock ! "] " Ma, Fido's got one of his fits. 

And Jennie has tore her new frock all to bits ! " 

" Hain't, neither, not half ! " "Johnny lost his right shoe 

In the straw in the horse car in Third Avenue." 

Children in Chorus : 

" O, whoop ! This is awfully joll}^ I say ! 

I wish a Thanksgiving would come every day ! " 

RESURGAM. CHICAGO; 1872. 

Live, daughter of the prairie, live ! 

What seemed thine end was thy beginning ! 
What seemed thy shackles did but give 
The athlete better chance of winning ! 
Where yesterday the drunken sun 
Was reeling at the fiery chalice, 
A miracle he sees begun 

In vaulting dome and blooming palace. 
Ring, trowel, ring! 
Thy shining shield 
From blaze and brand shall beauty borrow ; 
Sing, builder, sing ! 
The ashen field 
Shall blossom brighter yet to-morrow ! 



14 The prophecy and other poems. 

Hail, daughter of the prairie, hail ! 

All cheery noises swell the greeting ; 
The rattling cart, the ringing nail. 

The hammer on the anvil beating, 
The newsboy's cry, the sailors' call, 

The song that makes the nooning gladder, 
The shout for mortar on the wall. 

Where climbs the hod the dizzy ladder. 
Ring, trowel, ring ! 
The bells that pealed 
Despair, shall Hope's sweet music l)orrow ; 
Sing, builder, sing. 
The ashen field 
Shall blossom brighter yet to-morrow. 

Rise, daughter of the prairie, rise ! 

As, dancing to Amphion's ditty 
Beneath the fabled orient skies 

Arose the wondrous Tlieban city, 
So rise our magic walls to-day. 

Lured upward 1)y the lute of Labor, 
Kntranced as were the huts of clay 

By music of the S3'rian tabor ! • 

Ring, trowel, ring ! 
The heart, annealed, 
Finds sweetness in the cup of sorrow ! 
Sing, builder, sing ! 
The ashen field 
Shall blossom brighter yet to-morrow. 

APRHv. 
Lo ! the shower that appears 

When the brightness is gone — 

'Tis the Sky shedding tears 

At the loss of the Sun ! 



TO BRIGHAM YOUNG. I5 

TWO BREAKFAST DISHKvS.^ 

When an angel made shad 

The devil was mad, 
For it seemed such a feast of deli^dit, 

So, to ruin the scheme. 

He plunged in the stream 
And stuck in the bones out of spite. 

When strawberries red 

First illumined their bed 
The angel looked on and was glad ; 

But the devil, 'tis said. 

Fairly pounded his head, 
For he'd used all the bones for the shad. 

TO BRIGHAM YOUNG. 

I'RKSIDKN'r OF THE CHURCH OF LATTKR-DaY SaINTS— 1877. 

Halt, Brigham ! You've scolded and stormed like a harridan ; 

Have threatened Grant, Uncle Sam, Sherman and Sheridan ; 

Have spouted a picturesque sort of profanity 

Although they have treated your harem with lenity — 

Although they have spared 3'our indecorous notions. 

Your weddings off color and grotesque devotions — 

Although when you sealed a new rural or city mate 

They let the transaction pass off as legitimate ; 

Till now, with proud mein and a plea somewhat slender, 

With voice like a hag of the feminine gender, 

With words in falsetto and gestures quite frantic. 

You rush to the front to mop back the Atlantic. 

In vain ! With Fate's solemn decree you're disputing — 

Can aught be more mad than this Mormon Canuting ? 

F'orsooth, you would fight to maintain your pretentions 

Your wdves and your follies, 3'our dupes and your pensions. 

Now Brigham, see here ! lend an ear-flap and listen — 

A tale with a moral — just hearken to this 'uu : 



l6 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

An Injin — I knew and disliked him — moreover 

You remind me of that aboriginal rover — 

An Injin, all speckled and tattooed of visage, 

Resisted, as you do, the progress of this age. 

He wished that the telegraphs might be abated ; 

The railroads advancing he cordially hated ; 

So one day he picked out his longest and best rein 

And started to capture the Denver express train. 

One end of the lasso he tied round his body, 

Then hid in the bushes, then swallowed some toddy ; 

The rattle of wheels in the distance is humming ; 

The desperate, fury-fed dragon is coming ! 

A whistle ! A roar ! The lithe lasso leaps j-onder 

And hovers in air like a coiled anaconda ; 

The train rushes by — a dense cloud interposes, 

But the lasso the neck of the monster encloses ! 

He's got him ! The Injin has captured the stranger ! — 
The iron-winged, thunder-voiced, fire-breathing ranger. 

I have but to add — here the moral is hingin' — 

That they never found head, neck or heels of that Injin ! 



A DREAM OF DEATH. 

Read at the Funeral of Henry Evans, an Agnostic, 
Brooki^yn, July, i88i. 

I slept, and sleeping dreamed, and in my dream 

Saw, struggling through the highways of the world 

In wretched pomp, the grim parade of man — 

The young and old, the vigorous and weak, 

Some thrilled with joy and flushed with hope supern. 

Some heavy-laden, footsore, sick at heart, 



A DREAM OF DEATH. I7 

They fought their way, a blind and eager throng. 

Cimmerian darkness fiercely clasped them all, 

Save when they caught the flickering glimmer shed 

Around the far-off globe of steady fire 

Uplifted like a Beltane altar-flame 

By firm heroic hands of them in front. 

A few declared there was a sun be^'ond 

The gloomy concave, but it gave no light, 

And no man living ever saw its ray 

Or felt its warmth amid the chillj^ dank. 

Lo ! As the wierd procession crept along, 

A sprite, the tricksy Ariel men call Life, 

Went dodging like a firefly through the dark, 

Passing his feeble torch from hand to hand. 

And laughing as he sped. — He gave the torch 

To helpless babes, who gurgled full of glee 

And instantly to lads and lasses changed, 

And played, and danced, and kissed, and planned, and then 

The torch was snatched — they fell to rise no more. 

A sage I saw who opened his learned lips 

To utter truths the world had yearned to hear, 

But Ariel seized his torch and he was dumb 

Forever. So the traveler's torture-track 

Was strewed with martyred ones and wet with tears, 

And wails of woe went up from hearts bereft 

That always drowned the songs of merriment. 

Upon the bearer of the torch I turned : 

" Thou impious trifler with the heart of man ! 

How durst thou thus betray the dreams of youth, 

And fondest hopes of bright maturity ! 

Thou art a murderer, fantastic fool ! 

Better put out thy torch forevermore 



l8 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Thau fill the world with mourning ! " 

Tlien he smiled 
And beckoned — " Come," he said, " and walk with me." 

He led to opulent fields of rustling grain. 

To fair and shady forests, rippling grass, 

And Nature's fragrant garden full of flowers. 

" Behold the resurrection of the dead ! " 

He spake right joyously : " these grand old oaks, 

These verdurous sycamores, those fruity vines, 

Once lived and danced — strong men and women fair, 

These roses, pinks and daffodils were babes. 

And when they fall will grow to babes again. 

And join n'ly motley pageant rich with life. 

For every atom in the sentient world 

Through all the C3'cles of the cosmic dance 

Goes wheeling — palpitates in bird and clod. 

In tear and rainbow, star and sentient brain. 

Thus Life is only Death in masquerade. 

And Death is only variant Life to be. 

For every coffin to a cradle turns 

And rocks a life to beauty underground." 

" Ah, yes ! " I said, " I see the l)ody goes 

And comes again in flower and verdant sod, 

But where the spirit that informs the clay — 

That makes it think and soar and throb with life ? " 

" Behold ! " he cried, and shook his shining torch : 

" Some call me Zeus, some God, some Jupiter, 

Jehovah, Moloch, Typhon, Manito, 

A thousand names, and fight about the name, 

And build them altars, thumb-screws, racks and creeds, 

And slay each other at the christening. 



A DREAM OF DEATH. I9 

I was begot of Matter and of Force 

Which no beginning had — will have no end — 

The mighty, infinite, insensate power 

Which fills and floats the boundless universe." 

" But whence Affection ? " I, persisting, asked, 
" And Sympathy and all its blessed brood ? " 

" Yonder ! " he said, and pointed to the globe 

Of steady fire that glimmered down the ranks, 

Uplifted like a Beltane altar-flame 

By brave heroic hands of them in front. 

" It is the lamp of love whose fire is fed 

By oil of knowledge from experience drawn. 

The madly wandering myriads see it not, 

Or seeing, can conjecture whence it conies 

Or whither guides, and so they stumble on 

Through paths debasing, led by Ignorance, 

The misbegotten child of Ciixumstance." 

" A luminous jet ; who lighted it ? " I asked. 

" That spark was kindled " Ariel gently said 
" By primal man in his arljoreal home — 
First of his race who highest pleasure found, 
And marked the only road that leads thereto — 
The sacred road of mutual helpfulness. 
He lit the lamp for all that follow him. 
Its flame steals splendor from unconscious life. 
A truth drops toward it like a meteor spark. 
A strong man's voice, a woman's secret thought, 
Sometimes a baby's smile, will make it glow — 
A gracious beacon in a perilous sea ! 
Good will, a love of justice, mercy, peace, 
All make the lambent flame more radiant, 



20 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

And thus it brighter grows from year to year. 
No man who lives and toils but lends to it 
Some feeble ray. Sweet tolerance for all 
Who heedless trip and suffer, feeds the lamp 
With holy chrism ; and that benign self-love 
Which finds the highest joy in others' joy, 
Enkindles it to glory like a star. 
See how it shines ! " 

That moment I awoke 
And walked abroad. A chill was in the air. 
And then they told me that our friend was dead. 



THEY THINK. 

The Farmer's Wife : 

I think that a farmer like you ought to dig- 
Nify his high calling each day ; 

But 'tis hard to sit under your own vine and fig- 
ure up debts that you know you can't pay. 

The Farmer : 

I think that your friendly expression is fun- 
Damentally wise and discreet ; 

Suppose you now run and turn off a pun- 
Kin pie that your husband can eat. 

The Wife : 

I think a good deal of your money is bet- 

Ter than credit, if paid at the store ; 
For then by the grocery stove you can set- 
Tie the bill that will haunt you no more. 



a dream of parnassus. 

The Husband : 

I think an affectionate wife should be kind- 
Ling the fire ere her husband awakes, 

And let him rise later and sit in the wind- 
ow and read while she's baking the cakes. 

She: 

I think that you promised my cloak should be fur- 
Nished in time^or the holiday wear ; 

But now you demur ; we're so poor, my dear Sir- 
Loin steak on the table is rare. 

He: 

I think 'tis a serious question how far- 

Blers' Alliances influence banks ; 
Perhaps all our transports will be in a car- 
Nival of fanatics and cranks. 



A DREAM OF PARNASSUS. 

The Era of Cheap Books and What the Immortai^s 
Think About It. 

I slept where the moon, serenely bright. 
Shone full in my face through a summer night ; 
I dreamt I was in a Land of Light, 
With Fielding and Moore and Shelley and White, 
And Shakspeare and Milton — a goodly sight ! — 
With Addison, Dryden, and others, quite 

Too numerous to mention ; 
And there the worthies, one and all, 
Whom we the " classical authors " call, 
Beneath the shade of Parnassus tall, 
On Pegasus Place, in Helicon Hall, 

Were holding a big convention. 



THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Virgil was sitting beside Voltaire, 
Boccaccio chatting with Dumas, pere. 
And Pope curled up in the corner there. 
While grave Sam Johnson was in the chair. 
Wall-eyed and grim, with carroty hair. 
And he said, '' Of course you are all aware 

Of the latest earthly advices : 
The publishers old are going to smash 
Beneath the great ' economy ' lash. 
For the Ten-cent library, cutting a dash 
Exceedingly reckless and awfully rash, 
Is selling for almost nothing for cash 

And ruining regular prices ! 

" I hold in my hand a letter from four 
American publishers who feel sore ; 
They speak for a score, or possibly more, 
Who live by a traffic in printed lore. 
L read : ' We pray from this earthly shore— 

Ye authors of old, attend us ! 
O, give us a lift in this hour of need, 
For the publishing business is going to seed ; 
The Ten-cent pirates are making with speed 
As many books as the folks can read. 
And selling disgracefully low, indeed ; 
It cheapens your fame — for you we plead ! — 

Ye talented ghosts, defend us ! ' 

" What word shall we send to the anxious band ^ 
Then Walter »Scott, with a book in his hand, 
Arose (amid cries of " Take the stand ! ") 
And said, " Cheap books will possess the land ; 
There is no use for the gilt-edge brand, 
While a man with a dime can always command 



A DREA.M OF PARNASSUS. 23 

The brums of sage and scholar : 
A nickel for Pope — good binding on ; 
The same for the poems of Tennyson ; 
Six cents for your Pilgrim's Progress, John ; 
For the Iliad, twenty cents ; and Don 

Quixote for half a dollar ! " 

Then Chaucer said, " I am rather old, 
But am mighty glad this day to be told 
How cheap my Canterbury Tales are sold, 
And copper will buy the treasures of gold 
In the poets and wits of the Oueen Anne fold, 
Steele the bright and De Foe the bold, 
Berkeley the sober and Swift the scold, 

The travels of Walter Raleigh, 
Shakspeare's works, and vSmollett's and Stt-rne's, 
Bacon, Bolingbroke, Byron and Burns ; 

And Babington Lord Macauley." 

Charles Dickens said, " 'Twere foolish to let 
Good luck of mortals cause regret ; 
For the price of a theater-ticket they get 
Milman's Gibbon— the perfect set- 
Dante and Virgil, a half crown net 
For a shilling Adam Smith on Debt, 

And Mill on the Law of Nations ; 
And I see by this wondrous circular 
The Eachside Library sends, that for 
Seven cents you get the Seven Years' War, 
For a dime. King Henry of Navarre, 
And for thrice the price of a good cigar 

Will Shakspeare's inspirations." 

Then Goldsmith rose and expressed it thus : 
" It is simply a case of de gustibus ; 



24 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

I see no reason for all this fuss, 

For publishers never did much for us, 

While needy, summer and winter ; 
Therefore, mj' brothers, I hold this view : 
The high-price houses are doubtless blue, 
But unto the man our thanks are due 
Who sends our thoughts each palace through. 
And into the humblest cottage, too. 
For the Many are always more than the Few 

And the People are more than the Printer ! " 

A slight shade rose — 'twas Edgar Poe — 
Who said, " I'm talking here with De Foe ; 
We agree, and the ancients tell us so, 
Who makes two printed leaves to show 
Where only one did formerly grow 
Is as good a man as we want to know. 
This selfish grumble from realms below 

Reveals its earthly animus ; 
I move it be not received ! " About 
A thousand voices removed all doubt, 
Ben Jonson and Halleck and Hood spoke out, 
Kit North and Irving and Father Prout, 
'Mid a storm of cheers and a mighty shout. 

The motion passed — unanimous ! 



THE BAY OF FUNDY'S TIDES.* 

How it puzzles every white man ! — 
When the foaming, hump-backed Ocean, 
I,ike a big whale rushing inland. 
Splashes up the Bay of Fundy, 
Climbs the shores of Minas Basin, 
Sprawls above the salt-sea meadows, 



THE BAY OF FUNDY'S TIDES. 25 

Frolics on the sunny sliallows, 
Till the Moon, its mother, beckons, 
When afar it flies affrighted. 
Like a she-bear's roving twin-cubs 
Playing in a farmer's garden 
Knowing nothing of the danger. 
Till the dam, pursuing, finds them. 
And, with many a growl and whimper, 
Calls them to their native forest, 
So scared Ocean hurries homeward- 
Sight that puzzles every white man. 

But the Micmac knows the secret- 
Knows how he, the mighty Glooskap, 
Chief of chiefs and king of hunters, 
Living in his purple wigwam 
Up among the clouds of morning, 
Taught the lazy, hump-backed Ocean 
To arise and do his bidding : 
And the story I will tell you. 

'Twas a squaw that made the trouble. 

Good was Glooskap, strong and tender ; 
He was taller than a pine-tree 
And the thunder was the echo 
Of his wrath and his complaining. 
And the trailing clouds of cirrus 
Were the giant's floating tresses 
With the summer sun upon them 
And he made the night and morning, 
Gave the seed time and the harvest. 
From his blanket spilt the raindrops, 
From his quiver shot the lightnings. 
Fainted blossoms on the hillside. 



26 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Minas was his pond of beavers ; 
And the whales he drove to harness, 
And the white bears were his bulhlogs, 
A.nd their nests the eagles builded 
In the foldings of his mantle. 

All around his purple wigwam •• 
Caribou and deer were sporting, 
Foxes, squirrels, wolves and panthers ; 
Men and beasts all spoke one language 
And together dwelt as brothers, 
While good Glooskap smiled upon them, 
Kept them warm and gave them plenty. 
She, his squaw, he decked in jewels, — 
Bands of gold upon her forehead. 
Strings of jacinth in her tresses, 
Calcite crystals for her ear-drops, 
'Neath her nose a bell of rubies. 
And her robe was sewed with silver 
With embroidery of sapphire. 
While her armlets and her anklets 
Were such chains of jade and jasper, 
Diamond, amethyst and opal. 
That, when strolling near her wigwam 
In the forest-trails of heaven, 
Many a skipper in his shalloj) 
Shouted o'er the Baj' of Fundy, 
" See ! a new star yonder lighted ! " 

She had all that Earth could give her — 

All and yet she was unhappy, 

Ever restless, discontented 

In the thought of things imagined. 

And she went to Glooskap weeping 



THE BAY OF FUNDY'S TIDES. 2? 

Aud besought him for a favor ; 
Would he put his whales to harness, 
Give them wings upon their shoulders, 
Lash them through the heavenly spaces, 
Snatch the dogstar, and, returning. 
Bring it to her for a trinket ? 

Then good Glooskap saw his folly. 
And he stripped her of her jewels, — 
Every glittering gaud tore from her. 
And, with many an angry gesture. 
Strewed them down the deepening twilight 
All around the Bay of Minas. 
Showers of precious gems came twinkling 
Till it seemed the stars were falling. 

Then cried Glooskap to the Ocean : 

" Now arise and do my bidding ! 

Go and come each night and morning ; 

Go at morn and come at midday ; 

Go at noon and come at sunset ; 

Go at dusk and come at midnight ; 

Flow and ebb through many fathoms ; 

Go and come above the jewels 

That my haughty queen dishonored. 

Go till she shall see them shining 

Where the sunken rocks lie naked, 

But, when she shall stoop to pick them, 

Run and hide them ! Run and hide them ! 

Thus, revealing and concealing. 

Thou shalt go and come forever." 

Glooskap long ago departed — 
Furled his wigwam and departed — 
Beckoned home his truant eagles, 



28 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Put his Spotted whales to harness, 
Lashed them through the foaming ocean 
To the seas beyond the sunset. 

Then the stone canoe he paddled 
In the bay became an island, 
And his fishing-rod a causeway 
Leading to it o'er the water ; 
And the fog his wigwam's shadow ; 
And his bulldogs, turned to granite, 
Blomidon, their old name, bearing, 
Crouch and howl above the Basin. 

So the tides, each night and morning, 
Go and come as Glooskap bade them ; 
Go and come, a fretful ocean. 
Go and come in jilayful frenzy. 
Snatching every shining pebble 
From the fingers of the squaw-queen ; 
Go and come, ten mighty fathoms. 
Go and come above the jewels, 
And shall go and come forever. 

THE LIGHTNING TRAIN. 

With lungs of iron and wings of flame. 

With nerves and sinews of quivering steel, 
With ribs of brass and a giant's frame 
He spurns the earth with an angry heel. 
Through midnight black 
His e3'eballs glare 
With a ghastly stare 
On the startled track, 
And he rends the sky with a scream of pain — 
O, a monster grim is the lightning train. 



THE LIGHTNING TRAIN. 29 

The legend tells of a milk-white steed 

That carried Mohammed from earth to heaven ; 
As swift as a flash of light her speed, 

And jeweled wings to her feet were given. 
Each leap was as far 
As eye hath sight, 
Each hoof was as bright 
As a blazing star ; 
And a gleam like the stream a comet yields 
Al Borak left in the rosy fields. 

A wonderful arrow was that of old 

That bore Saint Abaris through the land ; 
It was feathered with light and barbed with gold, 
And sped by the touch of Apollo's hand. 
With sibilant song 
It cleft the cloud, 
That shouted aloud 
As it flashed along, 
And the sea never saw, from its throbbing tide, 
A vision so rare as the prophet's ride. 

The Sultan's cap and magical wand 
Bore Fortunatus to isles remote ; 
The talisman took him to every land 
And to every sky in its airy boat ; 
But the shining shaft 
From the archer's arm, 
Aladdin's charm, 
And the phantom craft. 
And the steed that skimmed the azure plain. 
Are all combined in the flying train. 

It devours the forest and drinks the lake. 
Then plunges down the wild ravines 



30 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

With the wealth of the world on its burdened back ; 
A sooty man from the saddle leans, 
And a murky wreath 
Its jaws emit 
As he tightens the bit 
In the dragon's teeth, 
And his cheek is swept by the fiery mane — 
O, a monster grim is the lightning train ! 

GUIBOBD AT THE GATE.5 

Scene : Parapet of Paradise ; principal Gate. 
Time : Morning. 

Joseph Guibord Speaks : 
Hail, Holy Father ! Gladly I salute you ! 
Painfully have I sought your sacred presence ; 
Hoist your portcullis, warder, don't mind my 
Incomplete apparel. 

St. Peter Speaks: 
Joseph, you ghost j^ou ! Tell me where jour bones are ? 
No harbor here for people without bodies ! 
Why have you left your skeleton behind you ? 

Who's got 3'our baggage ? 

Didst thou forget it, suddenly awaking ? 
Or, in desperation, sell it to the devil ? 
Or, impecunious, lend it to yoiir Uncle ? 
Speak, wretched mollusc ! 

Guibord Speaks : 
Father ! I've neither spouted it nor sold it. 
Yet had to leave it on my native planet. 
They mobbed my widow when she tried to put it 

In the cemetery. 



ECHOES ON THE SIDE WAI,Iv. 31 

Good pious people fought around my body — 
Fought six years, with curses, fire and axes — 
Finally one set buried it and piled ten 
Tons of rock upon it. 

Other set one night prowled around and got it, 
Filled up the hole, turfed it over nicely, 
Carried off the bones to a mill adjacent — 
Ground 'em into phosphates ! 

St. Peter Speaks. 
Come in, Joseph ! You are one of our folks ! 
Victim of folly, fraud and superstition ! 
Joseph, pardon my keeping you a-standing 

Out in the cold there. 

Earth seems just as full of fools as ever ! 
Poor creed-mongers couldn't let your bones rest ; 
ril make it sultry if they come around here 
Fooling with the knocker. 

ECHOES ON THE SIDE WALL.6 
Of the METROPOI.ITAN Museum of Art in New York 

City. 

Retreat of marble cripples from afar — 

Collection calculated to cajole a 
City to drag in its triumphal car 

Its excavator, General Di Cesnola — 
Echo: "Ola!" 

Harbor of Aphrodite with six fingers. 

And " Hope " discovered in a mausoleum. 

Hospital where deformed Apollo lingers, 

And Cupid wrestles with the mumps. Museum — 
Echo: ''See 'em!'' 



32 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

O, tell me, are the wild repairs completed, — 

These gods amorphous from the Golgoi garden ? 

Or must they still through endless years be " treated " 
By processes detected by Feuardent ? 
Echo: " Fero ai'e done ! " 

What doth the antiquarian with these ? 

With shapeless vases and Phcenecian medals ? 
With four-winged Juno with the bulgy knees ? 

And slender Venus with stupendous pedals ? 
Echo : "Peddles!'' 

Where were they found ? At Salamis ? Golgoi ? 

On Cyprus in an island rather spacious ? 
These " treasures " from the neighborhood of Troy 

Found in a dozen lands were quite migrations — 
Echo : ' * My gracious ! ' ' 

Why did they use this plaster, putty, glue. 

Cement, wood, varnish, in the transformations ? 

What did they seek with these " repairs " in view ? 
What did they seek in all these " restorations " ? 
Echo : " Rations! " 

And is this art ? — this gluing on of mirrors ? 

This splicing out of portions maxillary' ? 
This multipl^'ing of archaic terrors ? 

This carpentring so extraordinary ? 
Echo : " Narii ! " 

O, august temple of the maniac Muses ! 

Shrine of the art of Phidias in dilution, 
Where Psyche hides behind her wounds and bruises — 

Why wert though built, thou bi-icken institution ? 
Echo : "To shu>i{ " 



PLEA FOR CAPTAIN MARY. 33 

PIvEA FOR CAPTAIN MARYJ 

Uncle Sam ! A woman calls you — 
In her steamboat overhauls you, 
Hovering on Nebraska's borders 
Trumpeting a captain's orders, 
While the storm, in triple fury, 
Rages down the brown Missouri. 
She exclaims " fair play ! — no favor ! " 
Never was a woman braver ; 
Heed the call and pass the tiller 
To the hand of Mary Miller ! 

" Woman's work is sewing, mending, 
Washing, baking, baby-tending " — 
Yes, I know, but Mary's baby 
Has outgrown the nursery, may be. 
And its father, helpless, lying 
In the cabin, slowly dying. 
Never more will face the weather 
In the craft they've served together. 
Sam ! Have sense ; and pass the tiller 
To the hand of Mary Miller ! 

Women can't all live in leisure 
Waltzing to the waltz's measure, 
Opera-going, reading sonnets, 
Wearing fancy Easter bonnets. 
Nor can home life, warmly human, 
Find a place for every woman. 
Some, unlike the richer neighbor. 
Join the jostling ranks of labor, 
At the desk, the oar, the tiller — 
Honor, then, to Mary Miller ! 



34 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Brave Grace Darling, Peggy Martin, 

Jane McCrea and Clara Barton, 

Molly Stark and Molly Pitcher 

Make our history's pages richer. 

And remember Debby Tompson, 

Lois Hull and Becky Samson, 

Fighting in the ranks and wounded 

In the war our nation founded — 

Still there's room on Fame's broad pillar — 

For the name of Mary Miller ! 

Uncle ! Mary's made a study 

Of the blustering " Big Muddy : " — 

Knows its snags and sandbars hidden. 

Knows the bend by snake-heads ridden. 

Knows the whirlpool in the water 

Where has walked the " witch's daughter ; " 

Knows the bluff by shadows haunted — 

Knows, and steers the craft undaunted ; 

Danger flies when at the tiller 

Stands the plucky Mary Miller. 

Sam ! Your secretary, Folger, 

Says " The mariner and soldier 

Must be men. Whate'er may happen, 

Mary Miller can't be cap'n ! " 

But she is ! The hard position 

She has filled, with no commission. 

Don't withhold it. 'Tis ungallant 

Thus to hamper pluck and talent. 

Stand aside ! hands off the tiller ! 

It belongs to Mary Miller. 



SEVEN SONNETS. 35 

SONNETS. 



U. S. Grant. 

" Dead ! " So we call it iu our helpless phrase. 

Not so ! He lives and joins the joyous throng. 
Life leads him down her fair, familiar ways 

Proudly, and with exultant voice and strong 

Recounts his deeds and chants the victor's song. 
He dieth not whose knightly presence sways 

The centuries ; whose sword and speech belong 
Unto the endless future's luminous days. 
He lives for aye whose purpose, grand and tall, 

Beneath the love of millions plants its root 

And lifts a living bloom for all to see — 

He walks with heroes through a splendid hall ; 

The tomb is but a dais for his foot ; - 

The shroud a garment for his jubilee ! 

John Chari.es Fremont. 8 

Fremont, whose spirit made the mountains free ; 
Tireless explorer, fierce and chivalrous knight. 
Who set the flag on many a gallant height 

And planted it beside the peaceful sea ; 

Path-cleaver of an empire yet to be, 

Who sowed a desert waste with blossoms bright. 
And sleepest now in gardens of delight — 

Columbia doffs her Phr3'gian cap to thee, 

And prays that thine example may abound ; 
That other sons, in wafting thee adieu, 

May catch thine aspiration free and strong, 

Climb up these paths till other heights are found, 
Forever trim thy fragrant torch anew 

And swell through endless years the chorus of thy song. 



36 the prophecy and other poems. 

Lucius Quintus Cincinnatus Lamar. » 

Lamar ! when prescient sponsors bent above 
Thy cradle, with prophetic eye they saw 
Thy lines of fate the mystic Parcse draw 

In Roman symbols : energy to prove, 

Courage to dare, and eloquence to move, 
A pulse of S3-mpathy and hand of law, 
A will impliant as a lion's jaw 

And heart as lissome as a woman's love. 

And so they gave thee name of olden time 
To match with merits of an age outgrown, 

Fraught with suggestions grand, austere, sublime ; 
And by this measure be thy memory known : 

Errors endemic of the hour and clime. 

And virtues stern and high, unique and all thine own 

Thurlow Weed. 11* 

Untitled Warwick of this Western land ! 

Ruler of rulers ! Priam of the press ! 

" Dictator " swayed by such unselfishness 
That others' profit thou hast ever planned ; 
O, lend the presence of thy prudent hand 

Once more unto our councils ! Let us feel 

The glove of velvet on the grip of steel 
As when the legions moved at thy command. 
The word for justice spoken never dies. 
But soars and sings along immortal skies ; 

So shall thy self-forgetting spirit fall 

On some young athlete, sinewy and tall, 
And fill him with the noble soul that cries : 

" Naught for myself, but for my country all ! " 



seven .sonnets. 37 

Juarez, the Deliverer. ^ 

The glory of a noble race art thou ! 

Law-giver, soldier, rebel, refugee, 

The love of Counti-y and of Liberty 
Shield of thy breast and helmet of thy brow ! 
What faith upheld that lion-hearted vow 

And bound thy patriot followers to thee 

Till all the worn and harried realm was free, 
Blooming with peace, as we behold it now ! 

Free Mexico records thy matchless worth ! 

Free Mexico salutes thy shining brand ! 
Free Mexico, exultant in thy birth. 

Proud of the courage of thy conquering hand. 
Crowns thee, in presence of the applauding earth, 

The second savior of a grateful land ! 

Samueiv Bowles. 

Wise journalist ! We bow before thy bier, 

And touch it gently as it passeth by ; 

We reverently mark the purpose high 
That shone along the path of thy career 
Making all lumin ous the atmosphere ! 

No master's collar and no party's chain 

For love, or fear of loss, or hope of gain, 
Thou ever wore thro all thy journey here. 

Thy breath is gone, thy fluttering pulse is still, 

But thy rich life is only just begun ; 
The quick seed of a high achievement will 

Spring up and blossom on from sun to sun. 
And bear ambrosial fruit from sea to sea — 
Oh, this is Wisdom's sweetest immortality ! 



38 the prophecy and other poems. 

Thomas Simms.12 

The mills of the gods grind slowly, we are told ; 

Oppression's castle-walls are adamant, 

While earthly justice is a century-plant 
Whose royal glories languidly unfold. 
Not so, O, Thomas Simms ! thy heart must hold 

Within its sunny depths a happier creed ; 

Thou hast beheld the back of Bondage bleed, 
The hapless children from their mother sold, 

And suddenly, as by a bolt from heaven. 
The huckster smitten down vipon his face. 

While in a moment all the chains were riven 
And Freedom bending o'er a prostrate race ! 
O, wondrous sight to angels and to men — 
The leap of Simms the Slave to Simms the Citizen ! 

COLD WEATHER OBSERVATIONS. 

Come, meditative Muse — fantastic fa}- ! 

Come, rack j'our sconce and rake your tunes together ; 
Get up and rouse yourself without delay — 
Let's sing the weather ! 

A dozen sorts in four and twenty hours ; 

December's roof's aleak, and dripping from it 
Is snow on Bladeusburg's historic towers. 
And Oak View's summit. 

Hail, snow-flakes, snow-storms, snowdrifts heap on heap- 
Welcome are these, though slightly incommodious ; 
Tender thy strain in midst of Winter sleep 
Thou snower melodious ! 

Now blithe lads pelt each other with the snow ; 
Now roses deck the cheek and noses tingle, 



GEORGE B. MCCLELLAN. 39 

And warm hearts hide beneath the buffalo, 
And sleigh-bells jingle. 

The jolly Wind a-serenading goes 

To show each comely damsel what he kin do, 
He plays on his catarrh and blows his snows 
Beneath her window. 

The laggard locomotive plies the plow ; 

The festive farmer flourishes the shovel ; 
A cloak of snow masks and disguises now 
Highway and hovel. 

Behold the ice upon Potomac freeze, 

And Billy bellows like a bull of Bashan 
When he falls down and bumps his head and sees 
A constellation. 

The pipes are froze ! No water, cold or hot ; 

And often, as you seldom do in summer, 
You seek the Sultan of the Soldering-pot — 
The opulent plumber ! 

Later ! It thaws, with mercury thirty-six ! 

Ah, well ; although the freeze is rather flimsy, 
No Muse is hampered by the weather's tricks 
Or Winter's whimsey. 



GEORGE B. McCLELLAN 
On Receiving an " Ovation " at Trenton, N. J., in 1863. 

When Little Mac from sound of guns retreated. 
What cheap applaiise the Jersey welkin shook ! 

How he was flattered, glorified and greeted 
As he the saddle for the stump forsook ! 

Pope was the only foe he e'er defeated — 
Trenton the only town he ever took ! 



40 The prophrcy and other poems. 

A NEW YEAR SUMMARY.is 

Another year ! Another year 
With motley promises is here. 
The air is frigid and severe, 
And on the frozen lakes appear 
The skaters filled with merry cheer 
And eke with beer. 

The poplars drop their dead leaves sere 
That drift and drown within the mere ; 
The chimnej', like a grenadier, 
Struts o'er the roof-top to uprear 
Its smoky banner in the clear 
Cerulean winter atmosphere. 
The Czar is acting very queer ; 
With warlike front and mien austere, 
Marking his will to domineer, 
He slyly builds the privateer, 
He trains the Cossack canoneer 
And bids the Balkan mountaineer 
To v.atch the Austrian frontier 
And grind his spear. 

King W^illiam watches his career, 
Addresses him as " cousin cliere," 
And hopes that ere the world shall hear 
The tumult of the combat drear. 
Some friendly neighbor, strong and near, 
Will interfere. 

See England's paralyzed Premier ! 
Yonder the vSlavic chanticleer. 
Hither the Celtic mutineer. 
And Churchill ceases to cohere, 
Abandoning his charioteer ; 



A NEW YEAR SUMMARY. 4t 

While every human eye and ear 
Watches the fray with doubt and fear 
And hope sincere. 

Ah ! Listen to the poet-peer 
With his reactionary sneer 
Embellished with the Locksley leer ; 
He on the phantom burial bier 
Of the false future drops a tear, 
Forgetting all the Muse's sphere, 
Forgetting Clara Vere de Vere, 
Forgetting Arthur's cavalier. 
And Arden true and Dora dear. 
And Time, of all tellural gear 
The auctioneer. 

Come bach, O Muse, and reappear 
In Washington. The name revere ! 
The air is frigid and severe, 
As down Life's corridors we steer, 
While for us all is new born here 
Another year ! 

PENSIVE. 

She leant on his arm by the wicker-gate. 

On Q street West, when the moon was low. 
And looked in his face with the eyes of fate 

And a smile that only angels know. 
He drew her close with his clasping arm, 

And wondered what her trouble could be ; 
His bosom heaved with a wild alarm, 

" What is it, my darling ? " murmured he. 
" My sweet ! " said she, 
" It seems to me 
I kinder smell an ailanthus tree." 



42 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

LIBERTY YEARNING TO LIGHT THE WORLD.u 

Down New York Bay I swiftly passed 
Where o'er me loomed a column vast, 
From heel to head a mighty span, 
In stature most Gargantuan. 
'Twas Liberty's colossal bride 
That watched above the heaving tide. 
Darkness around ; her giant hand 
Thrust upward an unkindled brand. 
Her eye glanced o'er the darkling path ; 
Her cheek of bronze was red with wrath ; 
Her shining peplum heaved with scorn 
And pity for a land forsworn. 
Her parted lips — see ! see ! she speaks ! 
Her voice in angry thunder breaks, 
And rings along the starless night ; 
"Give us a light!" 

So now, each night, as sailors range. 
The sights and sounds are goblin strange ; 
Her angry foot the island shakes ; 
With wounded pride her bosom quakes ; 
And down her night-enchanted face 
The tears of rage each other chase. 
She shouts aloud and shakes on high 
Her empty torch against the sky. 
And sends adown the darkened Bay 
A stormy growl that seems to say : 
" Ho ! Opulent city out of sight. 
From Battery Place to Harlem's Height, 
Arouse ! And make my beacon bright 
To banish all the murky night — 
" Give us a light ! " 



ONLY YESTERDAY. 43 

ONIwY YESTERDAY. 
Read at my Sister's Silver Wedding. 

The world is full of miracles : for only yesterday 

I dwelt next door, not thirty years ago, as others say. 

'Twas yesterday I went and came and drove the plow afield, 

And stowed into the bursting barn the meadow's fragrant 

yield. 
'Twas yesterday I dwelt next door, scarce thirty days ago, 
And yoked the brindle steers and heard the lonesome cattle 

low. 
And down into the corner lot I took my scythe to mow. 
I loved to lean upon the snath when father was away, 
And always heard the dinner horn — 'twas only yesterday. 

'Twas yesterday we all lived there, beyond the Ditches — thus 
Old Time, the nimble wizard, comes and plays his tricks with 

us. 
I saw the babbling Wepawaug dance seaward with its song, 
And heard the mill-wheel groaning and droning all day long. 
How Uncle Zeri went and came, a phantom clad in white. 
And how we watched the hopper in its ague of delight. 
And how the buckets climbed and fell like many a wayward 

sprite ! 
And how I hooked the neighbor's pears ; and how, without 

delay, 
That neighbor set his dog on me — 'twas only yesterday. 

Beneath the stately elm's green arch I swung the laughing 

girls, 
And caught my boyish fancy in the meshes of their curls ; 
I saw them in their Sunday seats across the gallery wide. 
In Sunday garb complacent on the church's starboard side ; 
And one — her cheeks were rosy and her eyes a heavenly 

blue — 



44 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

She led me down a forest path and showed me in the dew 
Where spicy wiutergreen and jeweled checkerberries grew. 
I kissed her once, or twice, perhaps, or thrice, — what's that 

yon say ? 
" vShe's now grandmother " ? Nonsense ! Why, 'twas onlj' 

yesterday. 

'Twas yesterday the bees came forth to feel the sunshine 

warm, 
Sent out their reconnoitering queen and followed in a swarm 
And this same girl we meet to-night who wears her silver 

crown, 
Excited, ran with clanging pan to call the truants down. 
'Twas yesterday I drove the cows from meadows where they 

fed— 
The moolies of a devious breed and Devons dappled red. 
And stooped to milk the heifer that we bought of Uncle Jed. 
I knew that she was young and proud, but not that she was 

gay, 

Till I heels over head was kicked — 'twas only yesterday. 

And yesterday, O, how we planned the parties for the Shore, 
And packed the picnic baskets high with eatables galore ! 
The balmy bath, the sportive game, the romp beneath the 

trees, 
The bouyant sail upon the Sound l)efore the quickening 

breeze, 
The song, the dance, the merry jest, the banter and replies. 
And, O, the havoc that we made with mother's chicken 

pies — 
I see the dear one now with tears of laughter in her eyes ! 
Iler hand was always ready and her heart was always May, 
And young as any in our sports — 'twas only yesterday. 



GUY FAWKES, WILKES BOOTH, THOMASSEN. 45 

Those jolly times, the sewing-bees, the forfeit to the miss. 

The ride to Copenhagen on the bridging of a kiss, 

Where oats, peas, beans and barley grew for every Jack and 

Jill, 
" Open the ring and choose one in ! " I hear the music still. 
Since then, what pain and pleasure blent ! what tangled joy 

and woe ! 
What gains and losses ! And, alas, what inward tears that 

flow ! 
Thinking of them, it may have been — we'll say, a year ago. 
But father, sitting here serene, still ready for the play. 
Though labeled 86, proclaims 'twas only yesterday. 

I often took her by the hand — my little sister here. 

And led her off to school each morn throughout the changing 

year. 
I taught her how to make mud-pies. I brought the robin's 

nest. 
And marked the trees along the road whose apples were the 

best. 
At last, when I resigned the charge, 'twas not a week before 
They said another chap (it was the same old tale of yore), 
Had taken up the vacant hand — the boy that lived next door. 
And here to-night I look across their big boy's head and say, 
" I care not for these pranks of time — 'twas only yesterday ! " 

GUY FAWKES, WILKES BOOTH, THOMASSEN. 

Three miscreants in three distant countries born, 

England, Virginia, Prussia, did adorn : 

The first in appetite for blood surpassed, 

The next in perfidy, in both the last. 

To shape the third did Nature's self undo — 

She broke the mould that formed the other two. 



46 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

THE LEGEND OF PELOT'S BAY.is 

In the great lake, Pe-ton-bon-que, 
Ou the long and slender island, — 
On the island, Goo-ray-un-tee, — 
To the Iroquois the gatewaj-. 
Ruling all the Huron empire 
Dwelt Maquam, the mighty chieftain. 

Dwelt Maquam in savage splendor. 
All the nations paid him homage 
From the eastern hills of azure 
To the far-off flaming sunset — 
From the northern seas of crystal 
To the wilderness of roses 
Where the bloody river tinkles, 
Flinging chimes of mellow music 
Round the red Che-on-der-o-ga. 

Now the island rang with laughter. 
All the warriors made merry ; 
All the squaws, with joyous clamor, 
J Tighter clasped the brown papooses ; 

All the wigwams flamed with color 
Like the maples in the corn-time ; 
All the white canoes went flying 
Like the gulls across the water ; 
All the children trimmed their girdles 
With the feathery willow catkins 
And around the King they galloped 
Pounding on their drums of deer-skin. 

For a century's war was ended. 
Peace had come to Petonbonque. 
He, the great Maquam, had said it ; 



THE lyKGEND OF PELOT'S BAY. 47 

With the foes his father's father 
Learned to hate and loved to vanquish 
He had smoked the pipe of friendship, 
And the bloody hatchet buried 
Near the Mohawk's granite altar. 

And the kings, in solemn council, 
Had arranged a royal wedding : 
Scion of the daring Mohawk 
To the daughter of the Huron— 
Thus to live in peace thereafter. 
" Father ! " said the Huron maiden, 
" That thy royal word be honored, 
And no more thy people perish, 
Go I with the Mohawk warrior." 

Then, communing with the vSpirit, 
Strode Maquam into the forest, 
Over stream and meadow seeking 
Ta-ron Hi-a-wa-gan mighty — 
God of all the Huron nation. 
Hiawagan pitched his wigwam 
On the fleecy clouds of morning, , 
And he trailed his silken banners 
From the battlements of sunset. 
He had made the lake and forest ; 
Made the caribou and pickerel ; 
Made the Iroquois and Huron ; 
Made the sky-aspiring eagles- 
Taught them how to find his wigwam. 
He could summon want or plenty- 
Bring calamity or blessing. 
So the King in meekness sought him : 
" O, thou dread and awful Spirit, 



48 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Give the Hurons now thy promise ! 
Vouch their Sagamore a token ! 
Send us Yos-ke-ha, the Doer, 
Answerer of supplications, 
Yoskeha, thine only grandson. 
That he may, because he loves us, 
Just within our happy island 
Fashion for my daughter's dowry 
From the lake, a dainty lakelet, 
Fairest he has e'er created ; 
Bluer than the kindled sapphire ; 
With a beach of shining pebbles 
And a breath of balm and balsam. 
Where the trees exhale sweet odors. 
Where the water-lilies blossom, 
Where the fawns confiding wander, 
Where the fish are fair and plenty. 
And the summer hath no fervors, 
That the Mohawks, when they see it, 
Shall exclaim, " a bower of beauty ! 
Taran Hiawagan planned it — 
Yoskeha, the Doer, made it, — 
Witness how they love the Ilurons ! " 

Straight the chieftain's prayer was answered. 

Yoskeha bent calmly earthward, 
Softly drew his middle finger 
Down the island, Goorayuntee — 
Down the side that sees the sun set. 
All the trees and rocks were skyward 
Flung before the touch colossal. 
All the deer stood still and shivered. 
All the fish in Petonbonque 



THE LEGEND OK PELOT'S BAY. 49 

Leaped into the air in terror, 
As the lake, become responsive 
Under Yoskeha's caresses. 
Poured its cooling waters inland. 

When the god, his hand withdrawing, 
Calmed the sea and stilled the tempest, 
There remained the slaty fragments 
On a slender tongue of sea-grass 
At the basin's shining entrance, 
Washed by all the cooling billows, 
Fanned by all the cooling breezes,— 
Scarce a span it was across it. 
Great Maquam, when he beheld it. 
Shouted in a voice of thunder : 
" Now give thanks to Hiawagan 
And his well beloved grandson — 
Yoskeha, the mighty Doer ! 
Bigger gods than Minabozho — 
Bigger gods than all the pygmies 
That the Pequots have to pray to ! " 
And the voice of thunder sounded 
From the lake to where the sun sets. 

On the slender tongue of sea-grass 
By the basin's shining entrance 
There the Mohawk pitched his wigwam ; 
There the princess wove her wampum. 
Ground her samp and rocked the babies. 
And the King, his people happy. 
Came and slumbered by the doorway : 
Slumbered, dreaming of the future- 
Dreaming of the dreaded pale face. 
Of the wondrous wooden wigwam^ 



50 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Ou the slender tougue of sea-grass, 
And canoes that smoked and bellowed, 
Flying down the lake like swallows 
Churning it to foamy laughter. 
" War is done ! " they heard him murmur. 
And they saw a great white eagle, 
Poising ever, resting never, 
Soaring over Petonbonque. 

COMPENSATION. 

Citizen : 

Who's dead, good sexton ? Why those chimes 
You've struck the bell a hundred times ! 

Sexton : 

Puir mon ! puir mon ! the church's pillar — 
None else than Peter Grist, the miller. 

Citizen : 

Not Peter ! Then your bell is wrong 
He was but fifty. For as long 
As I have lived I always knew 
How old he was, and — 

Sexton : 

Yes, 'tis true ; 
But, dear, in ringin' him aw^a' 
I gav' him more than v/as the law ; 
'Twill please him, for the goody soul 
Was fond of takin' dooble toll. 

Deem that day gained whose low-descending sun 
Sees at thy hand no scaly action done. 



THE HAUNTED I.AKE AT COOPERSTOWN. 51 

THE HAUNTED LAKE AT COOPERSTOWN.I6 

The sunset trails across the wave 
The shadow of tlie violet hills, 
And where the shining bowl outspills 
The largess that the motintains gave, 
An unseen Presence all the purple twilight (ills. 

I walk beside the haunted lake ; 

I listen to its whispering shore ; 

I softly dip an elfin oar 
And float away, where phantoms wake 
The consciousness of night along the rippling floor. 

Through deepening dusk the day has fled ; 

Beside mj' skiff a ghostly bark 

Drifts suddenly athwart the dark, 
A goblin sail flaps overhead — 
They've come again to-night — old Hutter and his ark ! 

I hear a sob along the wave ; 

'Tis Hetty's spirit, unconsoled, 

Still hovering, sadly, as of old. 
Where, growing from her mother's grave, 
A lily-stem stands mute, and lifts a crown of gold. 

The rippling laugh of Wah-ta-wah 

Floats over, and her lover proud 

Sings to the maid his song, aloud ; 
I hasten to the trystiiig — ah ! 
Too late ! An eagle's scream drops downward from a oioud ! 

I know that up yon gloomy hill 
Young Judith lingers, fair and sad, 
While Natty Bumpo, mountain-clad, 
Leans on his trusty rifle still 
And scans the scene unmoved — a forest Galahad. 



52 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

The gathering thunder cloud a veil 
O'er Leatherstocking's cave has hung, 
But vs^here the gorge yawns black among 
The highest pines, a thrilling wail 
Floats out upon the tide — the dirge the Miugoes sung. 

Their camp-fire twinkles in the trees : 
Otsego rock 'tis blazing nigh ; 
The dirge becomes a battle-cry 
Of fury on the awakened breeze ; 
A Huron yells and swings a bloody scalp on high ! 

A hundred spectral fancies start ; 

A hundred eerie voices wake 

At thy command in bush and brake, 
O, Master of the magic art 
Whose wand has wrought the spell — O, Wizard of the Lake. 



SENSITIVENESS. 

" How are you, Johnny Jones, my friend ? 

And so you're spliced, my boy ! " 
I slapped him cordially and cried, 

" Old Jack ! I wish you joy ! " 

I never saw a man so mad ; 

He stamped upon the ground. 
And talked swear-words and danced and writhed 

And twisted round and round. 

I turned to run, when he remarked 

To quiet my alarm, 
" O, Jim ! I'm vaccinated there — 

Don't touch me on that arm ! " 



THK friar of CAMP0BEH,0. 53 

THE FRIAR OF CAMPOBELLO." 

I will tell you whence the Friar came, 

Standing sentinel at Canipobello. 
Sad tale ! Father's mother heard the same 

From an Openango, bent and yellow, — 
Grizzled dame ! 
I will tell you whence the Friar came. 

Long ago — a thousand moons and more, — 
Old Bashawba, dwelling on the highland 

Just above the cliff, from shore to shore 

Ruled the fortunes of the cool, green island — 
Hearth and store — 

Long ago — a thousand moons and more. 

All his wigwam-empire, like a king — 
Isles of Cobscook and canoes of Quoddy — 

He encompassed in his magic ring ; 
Masterful, nor fearing anybody. 
Governing 

All his wigwam-empire like a king. 

Proud and cruel Sagamore was he. 
But he cherished there his only daughter ; 

She was sweeter than the balsam tree, 
Fairer than the moon tipou the water — 
Nicassee ! — 

Proud and cruel Sagamore was he. 

As she saw her image in the tide. 

And discerned that she was tall and stately, 

She, so lithe of limb and gentle eyed. 

Dreamed about the youth who stole so lately 
To her side, 

As she saw her image in the tide. 



54 THB PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Micmac youth from Acadie afar, 

Stalwart, graceful, bold, aiidacious lover ; 

Borne in Neptune's fragile birchen car, 
Nicassee's bright eyes had drawn him over 
Like a star — 

Micmac youth from Acadie afar. 

" Father," she had pleaded, " he is mine ; 

When I saw him first I knew his mission ; 
All his friends and kinfolk shall be thine — 

War shall cud in granting Love's petition ; 
Heed the sign ! 
Father," she had pleaded, " he is mine ! " 

Thus the haughty Sagamore's reply : 
" Micmac eagle has a daring pinion, 

But a wicked claw and cruel eye ; 
If he fly again to my dominion, 
He shall die!" 

Thus the haughty Sagamore's reply. 

Now she watches, leaning o'er the wave : 
Watches keen and like a partridge listens ; 

Nothing seen upon the water save 

Where a paddle in the moonlight glistens. 
'Tis her brave ! 

Now she watches, leaning o'er the wave. 

When they meet with eager clasp of hand 
Pledging each to each to love forever, 

Old Bashawba. sleeping on the sand. 
Wakes and, yelling, springs with bow and quiver 
To the strand, 

When they meet with eager clasp of hand. 



THE FRIAR OF CAMPOBEI,I.O. 55 

Drawing angry weapon to the head 

Stands the Sagamore in wrathful sorrow, 

" King and sire ! " cries Nicassee, " instead 
Of the Micniac, give my heart the arrow ! " 
Hate is sped 

Drawing angr)- weapoi\ to the head. 

Then turns Nicassee to Heaven in prayer — 

" Good Sazoos ! O witness our affection ! 
Make the shaft fall harmless on the air ! 

Grant, Oh, grant the Micmac thy protection ! " 
Kneeling there 
Then turns Nicassee to Heaven in prayer. 

Morning came, and what a sight was shown ! 

Good Sazoos, the god who rules the planet, 
Had in mercy heard the maiden's moan 

And the cruel chief was turned to granite — 
Struck to stone ! 
Morning came, and what a sight was shown ! 

I have told you whence the Friar came. 

Standing sentinel at Campobello ; 
Hermits pale have changed the sounding name 

From the Openango, strong and mellow, — 
Yet the same ! 
I have told you whence the Friar came. 



-tt- 



Said a great Congregational preacher 
To a hen " You're a beautiful creature ! " 
The fowl, just for that, 
I/aid two eggs in his hat, — 
And thus did the Hen -re- ward Beecher. 



56 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

THANKSGIVING. 

What a din and a discord is Thanksgiving Day 

With its preaching and pudding, its pottage and play ; 

Its country reunions anear and afar 

Afoot and a-horseback, by carriage and car, 

The trader and farmer, mechanic and tar, 

Whoever the wandering prodigals are ; 

The lean and the bravrny, the blind and the lame, 

To eat chicken-pie and give thanks for the same ! 

Pack baggage and go to bed early to-night 
Resolved to turn out at the first peep of light, 
Then rise before dawn with a cold in your head 
And scold at the servant and grumble at Fred ; 
Since midnight all sleep from your pillow has fled 
For the baby has scattered its crumbs in the bed ; 
Then rush to the depot — while children all lag — 
With trunk, parcel, band-box, umbrella and bag. 

" All aboard ! " There ! Matilda's lost one of her shoes ! 
But Bob has the bird-cage and Ma has the blues, 
And Jane has the mumps and Jerusha has fear 
That something is certainly left in the rear ; 
And the baby has fun, for the sweet little dear 
Drops its hat out the window and plums in its ear. 
And Pa growls — (the tickets are under his foot,) 
" Dear Suzz ! I do wonder where them has been put ! " 

To church ! How the preacher expands with his theme 

As the old deacon curls in his corner to dream. 

To the table ! Now grandfather murmurs a grace 

Preceding the great Epicurean race. 

Then turkeys and pigs disappear in their place 

And puddings reflect in each satisfied face ! 



THE STORY OF CAPE DESPAIR. 57 

Till baby has butter on four of its toes 

And the drip of a wing has anointed its nose. 

O, day of our days ! Of our system the sun ! 

Thou grim consecration of Yankeefied fun ! 

The prayer of the Scotch o'er the dish of the Dutch. 

Thy pilgrims repent if they dine overmuch. 

O, long ma}' thy v.orshipful devotees come 

From east and from west and where'er they may roam 

To a tenderer call than the roll of the drum 

And blest be the hurry of prodigals home ! 

And blest be the clamor of children at play ! 

And blest be the hubbul) of Thanksgiving Day ! 

THE vSTORY OF CAPE DESPAIR. 18 

vSkipper, beware ! On the starboard bow 

A sharp cliff juts from the misty shore 
And flings its foam from an angry prow ; 

Cape Hope (D'Espoir) is the name it bore, 
But Cape Despair they call it now 

For the tragedy wrought of yore. 

Nigh two centuries since Queen Anne 

Sent her armada to storm Quebec — 
Scores of ships and thousands of men ; 

And she cried to Sir Hovenden on the deck, 
" Take it or never show face again ! — 
Take it or drive to wreck ! " 

He swept the sea and he paused to rest 

Where Pictou shines by the dancing wave ; 

That eve their prettiest maid and best 
The Acadians nnto her lover gave — 

A spousal at Hymen's high behest — 
The lovely wedding the brave. 



58 The prophecy and other poems. 

" Debark and get tliee a goodly sight ! " 
The tempting whisper of Satan ran, 

" A woodland nymph in her beauty diglit 
Will go, mayhap, with the strongest man ; 

'Twere fitter she wedded a gallant knight 
Of the royal L,ady Anne ! " 

As the maiden knelt, with trembling lip, 
In robe of white at her lover's side. 

The Admiral seized her with ruffian grip 
And unto the struggling captive cried 

As he dragged her back to the waiting ship, 
" Now you're a sailor's bride ! " 

Northward Sir Hovenden made full sail, 
But down from Labrador's darkened coast 

The Storm-king sent bim a frozen gale 
And the fleet on Cape D'Espoir was tossed ; 

PVom the rueful wreck there rose a wail — 
The wail of a countless host. 

And now, when the moon is drowned in clouds, 
A ghost-ship drives through the blinding storm 

Her deck is alive with clamorous crowds. 
And out of the midst of the mad alarm 

An officer leans from the larboard shrouds 
With a dead girl on his arm. 

Yes, dead, I say, in a robe of white ; 

And oft the Admiral's signal gun 
Is heard ashore in the dead of night 

When the ghost-ship over the reef has run, 
And the girl's eyes glow with a fiery light 
As the ship goes dancing on ! 



ON REITIRING FROM OFFICE. 59 

O, skipper ! I speak the truth. Beware ! 

I see her face from the misty shore. 
I hear ascend through the midnight air 

A wailing above the tempest's roar ; 
" Cape Hope " no longer, but " Cape Despair " 
For the tragedy wrought of yore. 



ON RETIRING FROM OFFICK. 

Some Remarks to Dame Columbia on Decijnino a 
Renomination. 

Thanks, Madam ! — but excuse me ! 

You are very kind to choose me ; 
You are very good to say I've served with honesty and zeal ; 

And I say that same myself — 

I'm no raker up of pelf 
And I've tried to do my duty by the ancient commonweal. 

Politicians come to sound me. 
But 'tis pleasant to be free 

And have loving friends around me — 
No more offices for me ! 

Why, Madam, I was candid ; 
I was rather open-handed. 
And I thought that I was honest when I got the people's 
vote ; 

But the papers called me " jobber " 
" Boodle snatcher," " villain," " robber " 
And other playful epithets too numerous to note. 
O, of course, " mere party capers," 

But 'tis better to be free 
From these funny moirning papers — 
No more offices for me ! 



6o THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

They exjiosed my " evil nature ; " 

I had bribed the Legislature ; 
I was rotten with corruption ; I had sold my vote for lust ; 

Homeless orphans helpless wandered 

Whose small legacy I'd squandered — 
The first I ever heard about the orphans or the trust. 

Nonsense, Madam ! You'll not miss me. 
And 'tis sweeter to be free 

With my little girl to kiss me — 
No more offices for me ! 

Madam, hear me ! I could stand it 
To be called a thief and bandit ; 
But blows I'm callous to have hit ni}- famil)' a rap. 

Maud ran home from school and found me, 
And she flung her arms around me, 
.\nd cried as if her heart would break — her head upon my 
lap — 

She had " heard about the papers." 

Ah ! Hereafter I'll be free 
With my children and their capers — 
No raore offices for me ! 

THE BALANCE OF RIGHTS. 

That bill of Wright's before the Legislature 
Would give the ballot to " that lovely creature," 
But Croker shouts " It's violence to Nature ! 
What right has woman, safe from war's alarms. 
To cast a ballot when she can't bear arms ? " 
" For shame ! " cries Mrs. Hough in lofty dudgeon, 
" For shame ! Go to ! Get out, you old curmudgeon ! 
What right have you, with all your talk bev.-ilderin', 
To cast a ballot when you can't bear children ? " 



fHE FUGITIVES OF PENOBSCOT. 6l 

THE FUGITIVES OF PENOBSCOT. 

Or the SivAves of Hymen. 
Air : " A model Major General." 

I live in Maine when I'm to home, not very fur from An- 

dover. 
And so did Nancy Hock when first I went to seek the hand of 

'er. 
I seen 'er at a huskin' bee thej?^ hed at Little Scuppineau ; 
It knocked me flat to look at 'er, — I could 'er et 'er up, I 

know. 
But w'en I popped the question there an' took 'er off to 

marry 'er, 
Her father didn't understand an' chased us with the tarrier. 
" Consarn a license ! " I hed said ; " Why, darn the darned 

formality ! " 
But now I found we needed it to give the splice legality. 
And so, with buck-board kinder slim, and aspect kinder 

sinister, 
I — a — ummmm — oh, yes ! 
We ransacked Maine from stem to stern to find a willin' 

minister. 

O, what an opportunity the exigency did afford 
The priests of Cheputnaticook and dominies of Biddeford ! 
At Macnaquack and Alligash, Sebasticook and Kennebunk. 
My Nancy hed a dollar bed, but I was minus any bunk. 
No parson, even for a fee, would listen to romantic us, 
At old Aroostook, Kennebec, Peru or Agamenticus 
At Lake Mooseliicmaguntic, Chattaquan and Passadumkeag, 
Umbagog and Cancomgamoc as far as Mattawumkeag. 
A Quaker shook his head and said " Thou'rt lucky if thou 
winnest her," 



62 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

And — I — a — imuiiuim — oil, yes ! 

And then we cut adrift again and moseyed for a minister ! 

We pleaded with her relatives at Wallagosaquegamook, 
At Pataquangomis, Squaw Lake, Piscatequis and Peggamook, 
At Syslodobsis,Schoodic,Squam,at ?>looseandMoteseniock, — 
No hospitality we found — no help, alas ! from any Hock. 
The erring father just behind, we westward fled from Amity 
Avoiding an encounter that might prove a great calamity ; 
To Medybemps and Pemaguid, to Ouohog and Pamgocamock 
To old Chimqiiassibamtook's beach, and Skogatunkasoca- 

mock. 
Fled westward, steering clear of all her unrelenting kin 

astir, 
And — I — a — ummmni — oh, yes ! 
We made a pilgrimage of Maine, a huntin' for a minister. 

Along the Molechunkamunk, around the wild Bascanhegun, 

'Twas huckleberries saved our lives, for ah ! I hadn't any 
gun; 

Through Chesuncook and Carritunk, Skowhegau and Sagada- 
hoc — 

And there, as Fate had willed it we came face to face with 
daddy Hock ! 

" My children ! " he with rapture cried, and hugged as if to 
smother us, 

" Fly not to the Aroostook woods and run away and bother 
us. 

Oh, marry, love and settle down, at Souneunk or Walsegock, 

Behold the license for the deed I got at Essequalsegock ! " 

We wept in silence, then came back, and, looking somewhat 
sinister. 

To — I — we — unnnmm— oh, yes ! 

Were hitched together by a mild Matamiscontis minister. 



MOUNT HOPK, NARRAGANSHTT BAY. 63 

MOUNT HOPE, NARRyVGANSETT BAY.l'J 

I stroll through verdant fields to-day, 
Through waving woods and pastures sweet, 
And find the savage warrior's seat, 

Where liquid voices of the bay 
Babble in tropic tongues around its rocky feet. 

I put my lips to Philip's spring ; 
I sit in Philip's granite chair ; 
And thence I climb up, stair by stair, 
And stand where stood the martyr-king 
When he, with eye of Jiawk, cleft the blue round of air. 

On Narragansett's sunny breast 

This necklace of fair islands shone, 
And Philip, muttering " all my own ! " 
Looked North and South and East and West, 
And waved his scepter from this alabaster throne. 

His beacon on Pocasset Hill, 

Far-shining with his dreaded fame 
Whene'er the crafty Pequot came, 
Blazed as the eyes of yonder mill 
Blaze now at set of sun, in Day's expiring flame. 

Alwa3'S, at midnight, from a cloud, 
An eagle swoops, and, hovering nigh, 
Assails this peak with fearful cry 
Of wrath and anguish, long and loud, 
And plunges ojice again into the silent sky. 

The Wampanoags, struck with dread. 
To these green islands used to cling. 
And watched this shrieking midnight thing 
With bated breath, and, shuttering, said 
" 'Tis angry Philip's voice — the spectre of the king ! " 



64 The prophecy A>fD other poems. 

All things are changed. Here Bristol sleeps 
And dreams within her emerald tent ; 
Yonder are picnic tables bent 

Beneath their burden ; up the steeps 
The martial strains arise and songs of merriment. 

I pluck an aster on the crest : 
It is a child of one, I know, 
Here plucked two hundred years ago 

And worn upon the slave-queen's breast ; — 
O, that this blossom had a tongue to tell its woe ! 

SENTIMENT. 

That vacant chair ! That vacant chair ! 

I lingered sadly musing there, 

And thought how late a sentient form 

Had pressed the crimson cushion warm. 

Now empty and untenanted ; 

And yet it thrilled me not with dread. 

Nay, pleasure rather — glad and free 

Its broad arms seemed to beckon me. 

I sat me down, and thought a space 

Of him so lately in my place ; 

Upon the velvet bank I laid 

My head, serene and unafraid. 

Ah, treacherous tranquillity ! 

We feel secure when storms are nigh ! 

Across my face that barber swope 

His brush, and filled my mouth with soap ! 

tt 

No dolt ere felt the subtle poke 
With good opinion of the joke. 



COMMENT ON HIS IvATER VERSES. 65 

COMMENT ON HIS LATER VERSES. 

" Tumble nature heels o'er head, and yelling with the yell- 
ing street, 
Set the feet above the brain and swear the brain is in the 

feet." 
If you saw those lines this moment for the first time in your 

life, 
vSaw the cracy acrobatics, heard the racket and the strife. 
What great poet would you fancy, writhing in immortal pain, 
Had expelled the might}' couplet from his convoluted brain ? 
Would you think of playful Holmes recording a police 

assault ? 
Would it guess that Stedman writ it ? would you charge it up 

to Walt ? 
O, my child, I'll not deceive you, and I will delay no more 
Telling you the wretched truth, although it make you sick 

and sore. 
Nearer, child, O, lean and listen ! It is Tennyson's latest 

chord, — 
His who hooted at De Vere before the Queen had called him 

" Lord "— 
Yes, my child, 'twas he who flipped it, for we heard the 

cynic's call 
As he tacked some tattered shingles on the roof of Locksley 

Hall. 
Leave thy tuneless harp unfingered ; leave it. Baron Tenny- 
son ! 
Vanished is thine art, magician, and thy magic touch is gone. 
Blind thy cherished orbs, O, Laureate, and thine aged 

fingers shake 
Like the faltering wizard. Merlin, when he lingered by the 

lake. 



66 The prophecy and other poems. 

Doff thy corouet, O, Veteran ; they but mock thee with the 

gaud ; 
Make a pen-rack of it — deck it with the quill that wrote of 

"Maud." 
They are sporting with thy weaknesses ; O, Master write no 

more, 
Lest thou meet the fate of Samson at the Dagon's temple 

door ! 



RECEIVED BY HIS PROTOTYPE— 1893. 

I lingered by the Square of Lafayette 

On March 4th, eve ; a city beacon flung 

Its flickering jet against the spangled sky, 

When from the Avenue a carriage gay 

Went dashing through the gate and up the path 

That curves unto the Presidential door. 

Just then I heard a joyous cry, " Git up ! '* 
And saw, amazed, in center of the Square, 
Old Hickory prancing on the brazen steed 
And digging deep the rowel in its flank. 
He shouted once again, and, with a plunge, 
His fearless charger cleared the iron fence 
And leaped across the street and up the way. 
I heard a voice — an earnest, cheery voice — 
And listened to the burden of the speech : 

" Welcome back, O, Frank and Grover ! 

How it tickles me all over 

Just to hear the truck that trundles 

In with all your duds and bundles ! 

Seems a century since we parted — 

Since you packed your things and started. 



RECEIVED BY HIS PROTOTYPE. 67 

Four years changes ! You have known some 

But I've been most awful lonesome. 

Hurrah, neighbor ! Welcome back 

From the lakes of Saranac ! 

" Ma'am, you're looking handsome, very, 

Plump as partridge, brown as berry. 

Pictures never catch your color — 

Good deal paler, tamer, duller,— 

Little Ruth, they say, you're bringing 

For to fill the house with singing. 

O, I've waited four long summers 

Watching fashionable comers, 

Homesick for to see you back 

From the shades of Saranac. 

" Though an oldish veteran, may be 
You will let me hold the baby — 
O, my arms are iron-plated ; 
They have crushed the men I hated— 
Biddle, Clay, Calhoun and Adams- 
All my enemies, and madam's ! 
Ruth is different, altogether. 
Bless her ! lighter than a feather ! 
Lucky day that brought you back 
From the woods of Saranac. 

Upon his hand of mail he took the babe 

And gently dandled her and softly cooed 

Some inarticulate wisdom in her ear. 

Then in the mother's anxious arms replaced 

The rosy child, in stately fashion bowed," 

And said " Good night ! I'll watch across the way." 

He struck the brazen steed with both his spurs ; 
It reared, and, wkh a single mighty bound. 



68 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Reoccupied the granite pedestal. 
The cocked hat held he in his hand aloft, 
Upon the bit he drew the tightened rein — 
A single clang of sword and all was still. 
A phantom griffin in the darkening air 
The ghostly charger stood, his balance true, 
I/ike Druid rocking-stone, or Pisan tower, 
On Mills's celebrated hinder legs. 



THE SILENT HORSEMAN. 

A horseman halted at my door ; 

All grey his beard and dull his eye ; 
Pie turned an hour-glass in his hand 
Bright shining with its silver sand 
And whispered " From the silent shore — 
Prepare — prepare to die ! " 

With autumn leaves his brow was crowned, 

And, leaning forward in his pall. 
He spoke again beneath his breath, 
" O, careless mortal ! I am Death ! 
My good steed moves without a sound — 
Be ready when I call ! " 

" Thy days are brief ! " he fiercely cried. 

And high his mighty sceptre swung ; 
" All days are brief ! All years are few. 
And Death's demands are always due, 
P'or dread decay shall quick betide 
The strong, the fair, the young ! 

I seized his rein and said " Too well 
I know thee for a braggart knave, 
And spurn thy menace imbecile ; 



THE SIt,EN'r HORSEMAN. 69 

What terrors can thy mask reveal ? " 
He trembled, and the hour-glass fell 
And shivered ou the pave. 

" But I am Death and will be feared ! " 

He shook his baton of command. 
" Pretender and impostor grim, 
There is no Death ! " I answered him 
And plucked him by his ancient beard — 
It shriveled in my hand ! 

The eyes behind his helmet bars 

Turned pale in furtive fear of strife ; 
I pushed the point : "no juggler can 
Disguise the cheat and charlatan ! 
Thou phantom of the deathless stars, 
I know thy name is Life ! " 

" All I destroy ! " he murmured, " all ! " 

" Sophist ! " I answered, " Nay, not so ! 
With youth and hope thy pulses fill ; 
Thy veins with vital ichor thrill. 
And where this evening's blossoms fall, 
To-morrow's buds shall blow ! 

" Behold ! " and pointed to his crown 

Of dead leaves from the winter's tomb ; 
" Behold the stipules, springing green ! 
Behold the petals pink between ! 
Behold thy sceptre, dead and brown. 
Like Aaron's rod abloom ! " 

He dropped his sceptre with a clang — 

It bourgeoned to a leafing tree ! 
He turned and fled thrcugh festal bowers, 



70 THE PROPHKCY AND OTHER POEMS. 

His coronet a vine of flowers, 
And in his hoof-track roses sprang — 
A flaming prophecy. 



LOVER'S LBAP.20 

Three hundred years ago — the time I speak of. 

Upon this granite cliff above the river 

A nut-brown maiden sat, impatient waiting ; 

With eye of sparrow gazed across the water. 

With ear of partridge bent her head and listened, 

Waving anon a fiery spray of sumac. 

Far off she saw the Naugatuck, down shining, 

Render its largess to the Housatonic, 

That joyfully, along its narrow channel 

Beneath her feet, ran babbling to the ocean. 

Her name was Nennapush, and she the daughter 
Of Santoway, the chief, whose birch-bark cabin 
Beyond the Wepawaug, received the homage 
Of all the tribes around — his truant datighter 
Who, many a morning, stole away and waited. 
To keep upon this rock the tryst forbidden 
With young Sequassen from across the valle}^, — 
The brave of Pootatuck. She gazed about her. 
Then smiled and bent her eager head and listened, 
And sang and swung aloft the flame of sumac. 

Her tawny arms were bare ; her sable tresses 
Swept round her polished shoulders ; on her bosom 
A triple string of sea-shells, iridescent. 
Swung low and softly tinkled, and the mantle 
Drawn round her lissom form had once enveloped 
A gray wolf on the hills. Her feet were naked, 



lover's leap. 71 

And o'er her aukles crept caressing grasses 
And fragrant flowers. 

Above the leafy sununits 
Of trees that rooted far below, faint glimpses 
She caught of one brown spot upon the highland 
Between the meeting of the wedded rivers, 
And knew it held the wigwam of vSequassen. 

She breathed his name, then bent her head and listened : 

That name the river's pebbly margin murmured ; 

The barberry prattled of it in the sunshine 

As merrily it shook its coral jewels ; 

The bobolink chirped it to the burning maple ; 

The brown bee hummed it as he bore his burden 

Of golden nectar to the cloven pine tree ; 

The gossiping breeze, that bowed the yellow lily 

And purple aster, and the breath of balsam 

Brought from the shadows of the dusky hemlock, 

Whispered the sibilant secret down the valley. 

She softly sang and bent her head and listened. 

Then shook a hollow gourd, whose dry seeds rattled— 

The pledge of luck and plague of evil spirits— 

And laughed aloud and waved the flame of sumac. 

Alas ! Her bright eyes saw, and yet saw nothing. 

She saw not, far beneath, along the river, 

A vassal of the Sagamore, her father. 

Creep stealthily, an arrow on his bow-string. 

She only saw, within the mellow distance. 

The quick pulsations of a flashing paddle, 

The water dancing o'er it like a fountain. 

And so she smiled and bent her head and listened, 

And shook the gourd and swung the flame of sumac. 

Along the air the light canoe came flying. 



72 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Nor seemed to touch the wave that laughed l)elow it, 
The prow turned shoreward as two hearts beat faster. 
vShe sang his name and swung the flame of sumac ; 
He lifted up his face and softly warbled, 
His fingers on his lips, the " Oo-la-loo-la ! " 
And then without a look or word, as sudden 
As sword of lightning cuts the cloudless ether, 
He swayed and plunged beneath the rushing river ! 

She flung the treacherous gourd away, and crying 
" The river demons drag him to their grotto — 
My lover, brave Sequassen ! " hurried onward 
And cast herself, head foremost, off the bastion. 

The river babbled onward to the ocean 

Singing sweet songs above the twain, and lulled them 

To slumber in each other's arms, to waken 

In that fair Land of Hope where all is summer. 



SCARCELY BENEATH HIS NOTICE. 

" You're beneath my notice, sir. 
You're a liar ! you're a cur ! 
Yes, a knave of low degree ! 
So polluted few there be ; 
You're an imp in human shape ! 
You're a devil, catiff, ape ! 
You're a serpent in the grass ! 
Scurvy traitor ! Judas ! ass ! 
You're a scoundrel bathed in vice — 
Ljar ! but I've said that twice — 
This is wherefore I aver 
You're beneath my notice, sir! " 



" WHY IS A— ? " 73 

"WHY IS A—?" 

•' Willie, here's a conundrum ! Why's a — " 
Then as she stammered and paused to think, 

He cried, " Shoot it off ! Whoop 'er up, 'Liza ! 
Bet y' I'll guess it quicker'n a wink." 

" Wait, Impatience ! Give me a minute ! " 

She pleaded, adding, " What crime is a tar—" 

And stuck once more. " There's a good joke in it ! ' 
She murmured, while he, " How slow you are ! " 

Again she began, " What crime does a sailor, 

In soldier's quarters taken sick. 
Resemble ? Now, you noisy railer ! 

Guess it ! Give us the answer quick ! " 

He guessed three weeks and didn't get nigh it ; 

Ate fish to strengthen his phosphoric brain ; 
Set all his ingenious friends to try it ; 

Then got shampooed, and went at it again. 

At last gave up, and she told the answer : 

" A sailor sick in such a place. Will, 
Is like an attempt to murder a man, Sir !— 

You see he's a salt within tent took ill ! " 

A shriek like the whoop of a Sioux he uttered, 
Then fell in a swoon. They poulticed his head ; 

In a week they saw that his pulse still fluttered ; 
In a month they bolstered him up in bed. 

The doctor sought Eliza to tell her, 

" Your William is crazy— observe that grin ; 

His mind still wanders, you'll kill that feller 
'F you ever conundrum to him ag'in ! " 



74 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

THE ISERE.21 

Now, welcome, thrice welcome the Gallic Isere ! 
The matron, Columbia, majestic and fair. 
With bright prairie-blossoms asleep in her hair, 
Draws tighter her girdle, steps down from her chair, 
And hastens to welcome the gallant Isere. 

The people flock round the illustrious pair. 

Each feeling himself of their glory the heir ; 

" Her footstool make ready ! " they cry ; " firm and square 

And comely the pedestal build to upbear 

The foot of the goddess — the guest of Isere." 

How myriads respond to the World's bugle-blare ! 

As Roderick's elf-horn, alarming the air. 

Drew clans to his ambush mysterious, where 

He leaps as their chief from his patriot lair, 

So now, to the World's call the world comes to share 

The burden and pleasure of helping prepare 

On islet of harbor the granite-laid stair 

For the goddess to mount from the deck of Isere, 

They flock from the hills with their tribute ; they fare 
From East, South and West, and their homage declare : 
The old and the young and the fat and the spare, 
The high and the humble, the awkward and yare, — 
They bring to the service of Liberty their 
Occasional dollars and eagles more rare. 
Their numerous nickles and dimes solitaire, 
Resolved to secure a " successful affair " 
For the goddess who conies as the guest of Isere. 

And when yon green islet its glory shall wear — 
When Liberty rears in her magesty, there 
An altar and shrine for the patriot's prayer, 



COI.D WKATHER REFI.ECTIONS. 75 

Where freemen anew may fidelity swear 

And looking upon, they shall never despair — 

When Tyranny reads, by her eyes' mj-stic stare 

And by her high torch's electrical glare, 

The syllables writ in the zenith " Beware ! " 

We then shall remember the World's bugle-blare 

What time Dame Columbia stepped down from her chair 

And came to the sea to salute the Isere ! 

COIvD WEATHER REFI^ECTIONS. 

Old Winter has come after months of delay, 
And Zero again is our guardian and guide ; 
The wing-footed skaters are up and away 
And thousands of lovers are taking a sleigh- 
Ride. 

Our colds we are dosing with quinine and squills. 

The stove-men are gaily renewing their din. 
The plumbers again over plethoric tills 
Are merrily, cheerily sending their bills 
In. 

We're not without solacing pleasures the while ; 

Society brings its ephemeral show ; 
The drama the season assists to beguile ; 
To-night ? Ah, Salvini ! I recollect I'll 
Go. 



If Lazarus was livin' now, and sot in some man's door, 

And that man's dog should limp along and lick ole Laz's 

sore, 
I'm satisfied, fer all the Christian feelin' that he has, 
He'd station-house the tramp an' lick the dog fer lickin' Laz. 



76 The prophecy and other poems. 

SONGS. 



Christmas Day. 

Christmas morning comes again 

And climbs the winter sky, 
It glorifies each hill and plain 

And gladdens every eye. 
It wafts the bright and brimming cup 

Of charity along, 
And fills the heart with music up, 

And sets the lip to song. 

Chorus : 

Joyous morning ! 

Banishing the night ! 
Earth adorning — 

Lovely in the light ! 
May the merry Christmas go 

To hut and hall, 
Health bestow on high and low 

And joy to all ! 

Ring the Merry Christmas bell 

In every steeple-tower, 
And let a thousand voices swell 

The carol of the hour. 
To-day the cloud of sorrow lifts 

And sunny skies are seen, 
And Love shall hang its goodly gifts 

Upon the evergreen ! [Chorus.] 

May Plenty all his store unbind 

Till Hunger shall be fed. 
Till Wretchedness a hope shall find, 

And Penury a bed. 



THE YACHT FaI,CON— 1884. 77 

May good Kriss Kringle plant his tree 

Within the cottage door, 
This holiday of charity, — 

This Sabbath of the poor. [Chorus.] 

Then strife and hate shall float away, 

And nevermore be seen, 
And Love shall hang his flowers to-day 

Upon the evergreen. 
May good Kriss Kringle plant his tree 

Amid each merry throng. 
To fill the heart with melody. 

And set the lip to song ! [Chorus.] 

The Yacht Falcon— 1884.22 

Falcon fair, of pinion free, 

Bird of flight undaunted, 
By the singing of the sea 

Be her praises chanted. 

Chort;s : 

As she mounts the wave and flings 

Foamy fountains from her, 
We, beneath her drowsy wings, 
Dream av/ay the summer. 

Drifting on from day to day, 

Past the purple highlands, 
Through the shadow-haunted bay, 

Round the shining islands. 

Far away from eager crowds 

And the land's commotion. 
Dancing with the dancing clouds 

O'er the a/ure ocean. 



78 the; prophecy and other poems. 

Morning sends her rosy rays 
O'er the water streaming, 

So the golden summer days 
Glide away in dreaming. 

Chorus : 

As she mounts the wave and flings 

Foamy fountains from her, 
We, beneath her drowsy wings, 

Dream away the sumtuer. 

Chari^es Sumner— 1.S74. 

My country, once again 
Upon thy stricken plain 

A soldier lies ; 
A well-beloved son, 
With all his armor on, 
Falls when the battle's won, 

A sacrifice. 

How sleeps his honored head ! 
How it is garlanded ! 

How, at his tomb. 
With loving, saddened face, 
Weeps an uplifted race ! 
On that tear-moistened place 

Shall lilies bloom ! 

Sumner can never die ; 
He lives beyond the sky 

Where all is fair ; 
Giddings and vSeward gone, 
Greeley and Chase, passed on, 
L/incoln and Old John Brown 

Shall greet him there ! 



ROBINS IN THE MORNING. 79 

They fell for freedom's cause ; 
They wrought for righteous laws 

O'er all the land ; 
They sought to bless the State — 
To break the chains of hate ; 
O, let us emulate 

That Patriot Band ! 



ROBINS IN THE MORNING. 

Hail Robin Redbreast ! " welcome vernal wonder ! 

Thou scarlet-throated usher of the morn — " 
So warbles Connor, blindly struggling under 

A contract still to wind his rythmic horn — 
But when he might search all the realms of nature, 
How could he praise this dissipated creature ? 

Oh ! what a night I've had ! At ten o'clock 
('Tis sunrise now,) I sought my grateful bed ; 

In four hours, robins in a countless flock 
Began their calithumpian serenade. 

And kept it up, from two o'clock to six, — 

A clatter like a million lunatics ! 

I have not had a single wink of sleep 

Since these marauders waked among the branches, 
With oaths and gibberish, as if bound to keep 

The riot like so many wild Camanches ; 
The jolly gabblers — law and order scorning, — 
'Twas obvious they would'nt go home till morning. 

"Squeak! squeak! chirp! chirp!" and shriek and scream 
repeating. 
Each voice resounding loud enough to crack it ! 
And still, assembled in protracted meeting, 



So THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

The revellers keep up the confounded racket. 
" Oh ! robin redbreast ! oh ! thou vernal wonder — " 
I wish 'twould split your gaud}' throat asunder ! 

Poor Dryden, rich in eulogistic words, 
Lived on the bounty of the flattered king ; 

So Connor, poet laureate of birds, 

Lauds any fledgling that is said to sing. 

Thus, as the rustic falls a prey to sharpies, 

Are cits delighted with these feathered harpies ! 

Ah ! how my head aches ! Still the red throats ripple 
With shrill refrains, inviting every missile ; 

They're drunk upon the atmospheric tipple. 
And sing in chorus like a varnished whistle. 

Monotonous music, all without a flaw, 

As when a blacksmith files a saw-mill saw. 

Do you, dear lady, tell me, to my face, 

That I'm " a brute " and this a cruel creed ? 

I deprecate your wrath — in proper place 
I like those birdies very much indeed — 

On toast, you know ; yes, thank j'ou, Mrs. Kelly, 

With green peas — and a little currant jelly. 

R. B. H. TO S. J. T— 1877. 

Sadly I salute thee, lucky friend and rival ; 
Sadly I confess that thou hast won the battle ; 
Are the fruits of victory in this struggle always 
Gathered by the vanquished ? 

Here I find myself but the slave of office — 
Slave of whims and forms — everybody's lacquey ; 
While thou sittest there, dignified and placid, 
Free and independent. 



PERHAPS. 



8l 



I but come and go at the beck of others,— 
" Leaders," who are bustling noisily around me 
In a patriotic fervor which is nourished 
By the spoils of party. 

Wheresoe'er I turn is the office-seeker ; 
Wheresoe'er I turn are the bore and flunkey ; 
Wheresoe'er I turn are my own Inilldozers 
Seeking to devour me ! 

Wheresoe'er I turn is the scandal-monger ; 
See the name I cherish covered with reproaches ! 
I am launched already on a dark and boundless 
Sea of defamation. 

Humbly I salute thee, lucky friend and brother, 
Envy thee thy peace, happiness and freedom, 
For a week discloses that success is failure- 
He who wins is beaten ! 



PERHAPS.23 

I tossed and dreamed again, and as I dreamt 
A crimson fissure opened in the sky, 
Revealing wondrous vistas stretching far 
Beyond the lurid battlements of cloud- 
Forests and lakes and flowers and singing birds 
And silver fountains dancing joyously. 
Upon a bosky bank some children played, 
And standing spellbound there a bright-eyed boy- 
A high-browed, eager boy, with listening face 
And lips all quivering with new found life. 
Across the lawn there came and greeted him 
A graceful girl with large, blue, beaming eyes, 
And shining hair that fell in yellow floss 



82 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Rippling around her shoulders. Tenderly 
She bade him welcome, took his hand in hers 
And stooped and kissed him, calling him by name. 
(I knew her sweet face and her gentle voice.) 
She pointed down the pathway whence he came 
And asked him questions, and he answered her, 
And when she smiled her face was full of heaven. 
She led him where the rarest blossoms grew. 
Described the curious, mj^riad forms of life, 
Taught him to listen to the music which, 
On languid zephyrs, stole along the air, 
And he was happy. 

They rejoined the play. 
A laugh arose — a clear and gurgling laugh. 
And I awoke. Awoke, and morn had come ; 
And up the sky, a splendid ship aflame, 
Sailed in a gulf of gold the rising sun. 



TRUTHFUL BIDDY. 

" Dear me ! Who broke my favorite egg ? " 

Cried Biddy Bantam to her daughter 
Who, balanced on a single leg, 

Stood, pensive, near the purling water. 
The child gave one pathetic craw, 

Her rueful tears began to thicken, 
She sobbed aloud " I broke it. Maw ! 

This little person is my chicken. 
I'll lime and nice albumen buy 

And make another one to match it ; 
O, Ma ! I cannot tell a lie, 

I did it with my little hatch it ! " 



A RUSSIAN IvEGEND. 83 

A RUSSIAN LEGEND. 

The red Russian sun had set, 

But a warm tint lingered yet 
And suffused the heights of Kharizanlinskoi, 

Near which a maiden dwelt 

Named Tscheckernigveuskiveldt, 
And she loved Odonelafuskideloi, 

" Dear Tscheckernie ! " murmured he 

" Wilt thou still remember me, 
For thine absent boy the same affection have 

When I'm fighting on the slope 

Of Kneiffikowsumpskop, 
Or crossing the Ekaterinoslav ? " 

" Ah, Olie, dear ! " she cried, 

" Am I not to be thy bride ? 
Nothing never can dissever me from thee ; 

Would that I to-day could ride off 

At thy side through Kameskidoff 
To the army as Pravolazhopperskae ! " 

Yet he urged " My love ! My own ! 

Wilt be true when I am gone ? " 
And she laid her little lily hand in his ; 

" Wilt be true as yonder star 

When I'm fighting for the Czar 
At Osmanjik or Pliillipopolis ? " 

And she answered " Here I swear ! 

You may wander everywhere, 
I will never smile on any other love — 

Not the Prince of Solienkorsk, 

Duke of Krasnovitcheborsk, 
Or the Baron of Zirpoukwiamzahov." 



m^ PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

As she bowed her lovely head, 

He snatched his sword and fled 
To join his general, Nepokotichitski : 

" Farewell, thou peerless damsel ! 

I go to Dschesairvemsel, 
And possibly to Kizilkirghivitski." 

When five long months had passed 

He wrote from Koldeplast 
" Our flag floats over Potchinokilamsk 

We have captured Bosna-Sara 

And Waloskydumskalara 
And Zedenkurskargopoloradskidamsk. 

" Last Saturday we took 

Valeditski-Bonzoulouk 
To-day we're taking Solgoditchefinsk, 

To-morrow we shall go 

Through Lotchokjavanavo, 
And home by way of Bogorodibinsk." 

She'd another lover then, 
Spite of all her oaths, and when 

The letter came, beside his knee she sat — 
Johann Hildburgmingenhausen, 
Born in Schwartzeburg-Kniphausen, 

And she married him directly after that. 

The next winter, every morn 
To the birds she flung some corn. 

And she fed the very ravens that had wheeled 
Over warring southern zones. 
And had picked poor Olie's bones 

On the Bielowkourokino battle-field. 



CHRISTMAS MORNX>G. 85 

CHRISTMAS MORNING. 
Writtkn During the Russo-Turkish War— 1877. 

" Go," He spake unto the Angel, and His face was full of 

light 
And His voice was sweet as music breathed upon a starry 

night ; 
" Heisten ! Wing thy way to earthland. Mark if man by 

love is swayed ; 
If the wolf of Hatred longer doth molest or make afraid ; 
If the world breeds yet the ignorance that wove my thorny 

crown ; 
If the holy centuries brighten since I laid my burden down. 

Bowed before the Sacred Presence, the fair messenger with- 
drew, 

Floated from the radiant ramparts where celestial breezes 
blew, 

Glided through the azure meadows where the starry morning 
sings, 

Dropped adown the shining spaces with the sun upon his 
wings, 

Till the w^arm earth rose around him and he heard a bugle- 
horn — 

He was in the Balkan passes, and the time was Christmas 
morn. 

As he turns, his cheek is smitten with the cannon's fiery 

breath, 
And across the blind abysses plunge the cavalry of Death. 
On the snowy slopes of Plevna are the Russian batteries 

wheeled. 
And corpses lie in ghastly heaps upon the reeking field ; 
Here sweep the Lovatz lancers — like a flash they disappear— 
Each rider yells and lifts aloft a head upon his spear ! 



86 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Christmas morning with the wounded, where the angry ranks 

divide 
In the old Berserker madness, writhing on the mountain side ; 
Peasant-brothers, locked together where the river seaward 

slips, 
And with faces fierce with passion, die with curses on their 

lips. 
Christmas morning in the village where the mad invaders 

slay 
Mothers singing at their spinning, — babies prattling at their 

play- 
Christmas morning in the Northland, where the Russian 

soldier's wife 
Looks through tears, with fluttering pulses, on the bulletins 

of strife. 
Christmas morning in the Southland, where the Turkish 

maidens wait 
For the sweethearts who shall never come to greet them at 

the gate. 
Christmas morning by the camp-fire of the Cossack cavalcade, 
Where the sad-eyed sister writes to Northern wife and 

Southern maid. 

Christmas morning in the churches, where the priests an- 

nointed pray 
That the Lord will lead the combat and the hosts of Islam 

slay. 
Christmas morning in the Mosque, where the Mollah cries to 

God 
To baptize the sunny valleys with the Christian's hated 

blood, 
Christmas morning in the battle, where, along the frenzied 

line, 



CHARI^KS DARWIN— D. C. Z,. 87 

Flags unfurled to Christ and Mahomet, with the cross and 
crescent shine ! 

Then the Angel, eyes of pity and a face with terror white, 
With a wail of shame and sorrow, vanished on his upward 

flight. 
And he cried, " The blood of brothers mingles with the bitter 

tears 
That rush hellward like a deluge in the torrent of the 

years. 
Fools ! Oh, fools ! The fiends of Hatred strangle still the 

gentler birth, 
And IvOve is still an outcast from the temples of the earth ! " 



CHARIvES DARWIN— D. C. h. 

Darwin arose in the college on Saturday — 

Infidel ! Atheist ! priest of this latter day ! 

Which is the stronger, the old pedagogue or he 

As he comes forward in blazing-red toggery ? 

Honored in Cambridge, the great University ; 

Scientist, destined to bless it or curse it he ! 

Who was the father from whom every son had come ? 

Did we from molecule, mollusc or monad come ? 

Ah ! sabe dios ! But sure, evolution is 

Wiser than guessing of some Lilliputian is ! 

Doctor of civil law ! Give his degree to him ; 
Little the plain decoration will be to him ! 
In blossom and star a sublime revelation is ; 
Knowledge of Nature, the New Dispensation is. 
Monkey let down from the gallery chattering. 
Nice-looking person, his ancestors flattering, 
Perched on a chair, he declaims like a Senator, 



88 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Student exclaims ; " Darwin, here's your progenitor ! " 
" Yes," says the sage ; " This is not a surprise to me ; 
He is the fellow that always replies to me ! " 

BROTHER JONATHAN TO DOM PEDR0.24 

Hail, equator-crowned Braganza ! 
To our guest we fling a stanza, 
Royal ruler of the tropics 
Best and timeliest of topics, 
Father of a dozen millions, 
Most majestic of Brazilians, 
I wave welcome to your clipper, — 
Lift aloft your royal flipper ! 

All the world has cheered your order, 
" Not a slave within mj' border ! " 
All the world inquires how was it 
That you blent that mass composite 
With no serf to wear a collar. 
Pedro, gentleman and scholar. 
Farmer, miner, weaver, skipper, 
Cordially I grasp your flipper ! 

Mingled blood and varied lingo 

From Para to San Domingo, 

From Peru to Pernambuco, 

Black, mulatto, mamaluco, 

Men from every clime and nation, 

Mixed in strange conglomeration, 

Active as a gallinipper — 

Pedro, shake ! Extend your flipper ! 

Say ! I like your style of feller ; 
How's your daughter, Isabeller ? 



To A LIZARD IN AMBER, 

How's your wife, and your wife's mother? 
How's your aunt and cousin's brother ? 
How's your sheep and colts and cattle ? 
How's the last Cafuzo battle ? 
Underneath the Northern dipper 
Let us pledge ! Here, friend, your flipper ! 

Don't you mind my little troubles ; 
Don't you watch these transient bubbles : 
General rows and rows domestic. 
Threats and plottings anarchistic ; 
Though our seas are rather risky, 
Rough as 3'our ancestral Biscay, 
Rogues shall feel Columbia's slipper ! 
Senyor Pedro ! Here's my flipper ! 

Stars and Stripes shall dip Hosanna 
To your green and golden banner ; 
Dom, our realms are both extensive : 
Let us form a league defensive : 
If old Europe wants to meddle 
With our continent or peddle 
Crowns around — we'll join and whip her ! 
Mister Pedro, gi's your flipper ! 

TO A LIZARD IN AMBER. 

O, bright-eyed swimmer from Triassic seas ! 

Thou tiny cousin of the ichthyosaurus — 
What mocking sylph, beneath the cypress trees, 
Discarding flies and fleas and bugs, and bees, 
Embalmed thee for us ? 

When thou wert darting through a fiery path 
Millions of years ago, with sinuous motion, 



go fHE PROPHECY AND 01*HER POEMS. 

Was old earth broiling in a Turkish bath ? 
Difl Chaos wallow in a sea of wrath — 
A sulphurous ocean ? 

Dwelt thou with man primeval in his lair 

On hills Carpathian or desert Lybian ? 
Or didst thou with the gods Olympus share, 
'Mid such high state living unnoticed there, 
Thou small amphibian ? 

Say ! didst thou sleep on Agamemnon's grave, 

When Troy's renowned unpleasantness was oyer? 
Or did glad Neptune fling thee from his cave 
When sweet Calypso kissed beside the wave 
Her Spartan lover ? 

How different from the death thou livest here 

Amid the gay and sombre, wise and witty, 
With dulcet music melting on the ear, 
And philosophic speech discoursing clear 
In Jersey City ! 

Thy lucent coffin hath a splendid nook : 

Above, with saucer eyes and claws retractile, 
An owl sits gazing with an anxious look ; 
Around are gems ; beneath, that limestone spook, 
The ptereodactjd. 

Who pinioned thy grotesque and uncouth frame 
Within the sunshine of this golden chamber ? 
Is this the fountain whence the nectar came ? 
Or is it star-born — this undying flame 
Which men call amber ? 

Or is this jewel formed of sweet tears shed 
By fair Heliades — Apollo's daughters — 



LOVE ON SKATES. 91 

When their rash brother dov*ii the welkin sped, 
Lashing his father's sun team, and fell dead 
In Euxine waters ? 

Splay-footed sprawler from Triassic seas ; 
O, tawny cousin of the ichthyosaurus— 
What sportive sister of Hesperides, 
In the ambrosia of celestial trees, 
Embalmed thee for us ? 

LOVE ON SKATES. 

The ball is up ! The flag is out ! 

The skaters are away, 
And o'er the ice in merry bout 

They cut the snowy spray. 
Come, Joe, let's join the jolly throng 
And swell the song and help along 

The carnival to-day. 

And while you trim your runners, Joe, 

And tarry here a trice, 
I'll tell what stirred my pulses so 

Last winter on the ice ; 
For oh ! it was a glorious night, 
And hearts were light and eyes were bright 

That evening on the ice. 

And every face was gay and young. 

And all its colors wore, 
And songs were sung and laughter rung 

From merry shore to shore. 
The jewel stars begemmed the night, 
And Luna flung her liquid light 

Along the level floor. 



92 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

A maiden sought the skater's prize — 

A queen beyond compare — 
I saw her chase in mirrored skies 

The star that floated there, 
Then balance on the glancing glaive, 
And poise above the frozen wave 

Like swallow on the air. 

A steel shod Juno, fair and fleet, 

As any season brings, 
With music in her airy feet 

She cut the mazy rings ; 
And now and then she deigned to show 
Beneath her rosy furbelow 

The flash of sandal wings. 

I dodged the scurrying host to make 

A schedule of her charms. 
When sweeping round and round the lake 

Unconscious of alarms, 
With many a whirl and curve and curl 
Among the crowd, the giddy girl 

Fell plump into my arms ! 

I felt an impulse to pursue 

As from my grasp she slid ; 
I marked what dancing eyes of blue 

Her jaunty jockey hid ; 
She gasped a word and dashed away, 
And in a breath the tricksy fay 

Was lost the throng amid. 

I sought in vain ; that evening, Jo, 

The ice began to melt ; 
And now the whirling New Year snow 



UNCI.K SAM TO PRINCE FUSHIMl OF JAPAN. 93 

Reminds me how I felt, 
And how her blushes went and came, 
As scarlet as the sash of flame 

That fluttered at her belt ! 

Come on ! my heart is all adrift 

Whene'er I turn that way ; 
Come on ! we'll find her coursing swift 

Across the crj-stal bay ; 
I know she's hovering around about 
Or darting in or dashing out 

The carnival to day. 



UNCIvE SAM TO PRINCE FUSHIMI OP JAPAN. 

During His Visit to the; United States— 1887. 

Cordial welcome, Prince Fushimi ! 
Didn't think you'd call to see me. 
I've been kind o' wonderin' whethei 
You'd come round this roastin' weather, 
Fierier and fiercer than a 
Burning cone at Fusiana. 
Come right in, for Adam Badeau 
Told me of your boss, Mikado. 

Hail and welcome, Prince Fushimi ! 
'Tis a visit that I deem a 
Lasting honor. How I wish I 
Had a fleet like Mitsu Bishi ; 
And, for coin, I'd like to take a 
Mint like yours at old Osaka — 
That is where I'm told the bank is 
Of the Oriental Yankees. 



94 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Myriad welcomes, Prince FusUiuii ! 
Japs are practical as dreamy. 
Are our Washington girls pretty 
As the maids of Hokoveti ? 
Since you landed, have you fed, O, 
As you used to feed in Yeddo ? 
And does beverage de Milwaukee 
Reach the spot like fragrant saki ? 

Hail, and au revoir Fushimi ! 
Dreadful glad you came to see me. 
Let us act like next door neighbors, 
Joining hearts and hopes and sabers. 
As a sort of Yankee notion 
Touching colors o'er the ocean ; 
Eastern mood and Western manner, — 
Starry flag and golden banner ! 



A SAIvT-SEA SPECTER. 

At anchor in Peconic Bay 

Off Shelter Island's haunted shore, 
Our trim yacht. Falcon, throbbing lay 

One summer night in 'S4, 
And champed her bit, as if to say, 

" Let us begone ! I'll wait no more ! " 

Upon a battered wreck hard by 
I heard a gruesome owlet call ; 

Down from the shrouds a smothered cry 
Of elfin terror seemed to fall ; 

No speck of light was in the sky 
And mystery was over all. 



A SALT-SEA SPECTER. 9S 

Hearing a splash I raised a siiout : 

" Ho ! nieniiaid of the island-sea ! 
'Tis years since thou hast ventured out 

Where'er thy sunless caverns be. 
Come hither ! Dance a goblin bout 

And sing a festal song to me." 

I spoke, and lo ! from out the foam, 

Bearing a looking-glass and fan, 
A mermaid rose ; a coral comb 

Adown her seaweed tresses ran ; 
She touched my arm and sighed " Ho hum ! 

'Tis ages since I've seen a man ! " 

"Why so?" Tasked. " Because," she cried, 

" The girls ashore so overdress, 
We scorn to emulate their pride ; 

And, though I wear a good deal less. 
My notion of a taste so snide 

I dare not venture to express ! " 

Upon my hand she laid her own : 

" The glass and comb were well enough, 

And cestus of the virgin zone, — 
But oh ! the silks and satin stuff, 

The feathers, ring with priceless stone, — 
We've no rich fathers, and it's rough ! 

" Our crimips are also rather faint ; 

The Cleveland bang with dextrous fin 
We twist in bandoline and paint 

And tie it up in strips of tin, 
But water's wet ; by tea-time 'taint 

Fit to receive a sardine in ! 



o6 thh prophkcy and other poems. 

" I hate such artifice." Her neck 
Was all undraped and white as foam ; 

She waved her fair arms towards the wreck 
And smiled on me and whispered " Come ! " 

Then sprang from off the Falcon's deck 
And sought again her moistened home. 

I did not follow her. Hard by 

I heard a gruesome owlet call ; 
Down from the shrouds a smothered cry 

Of elfin terror seemed to fall. 
No speck of light was in the sky 

And mystery was over all. 



THANKSGIVING. 

" IvCt Earth give thanks," the Parson said, 
And then the Proclamation read. 

" Give thanks for what ? An' what about ? " 

Asked Simon Soggs when church was out. 

" Give thanks for what ? I don't see why ; 

The rust got in and spiled my rye, 

An' grass wa'n't half a crop, and corn 

All wilted down and looked forlorn. 

And bugs just gobbled my pertaters — 

The what-you-call-'em-Ivineaters. 

So much tobacker all around 

We let it rot upon the ground. 

Onless a war should interfere 

Wheat won't fetch half a price this year ; 

I'll hev to giv it away I reckon ! " 

" Good for the poor ! " e:!iclainied the Deacon. 



THANKSGIVING. «j'/ 

" Give thanks fer what ? " asked Simon Soggs, 
" Fer freshets carryin' off my logs ? 
Fer Dobbin goin' blind last week ? 
Fer two cows drownded in the creek ? 
Fer ten dead sheep ? " asked Simon Soggs. 

The Deacon said, " You've get yer hogs ! " 

" Give thanks ? An' Jane and baby sick ? 
I e'en most wonder ef Ole Nick 
Aint runnin' things ! " 

The Deacon said : 
" Simon ! your people might be dead ! " 

" Give thanks ! " said Simon Soggs again, 

" Jest look at what a fix we're in ! 

The country rushin' to the dogs 

At race-hoss speed ! " said Simon Soggs. 

" A year'n a half ago we went 

An' 'lected 'uother President, 

But now, no man knows what to do. 

Or how is how or who is who. 

The Pres'dent tries to do his best, — 

But look at how they act out West ! 

Some votes too little, some too much. 

Some not at all— it beats the Dutch ! 

The nigger skulks in Night's disguise 

And hooks a chicken ez he flies, 

The labrin-men is up in arms 

And fill the land with wild alarms, 

And millions mad ez they kin be ; 

Say, Deacon, wait an* you will see 

That 'fore another Pres'dent's in 

We'll have a gen'ral fight agin. 



giJ THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Give thanks fer what, I'd like to know ? " 

The Deacon answered, sad and slow — 

" Kneel right straight down in all the muss 

An' thank God that it aint no wuss ! " 

OPEN LETTER TO BRIGHAM YOUNG, 

O, chief of the Sandj' Seraglio ! 

O, boss of the twenty old cats ! 
I'm sorry for yon, and I'll tell you 

How 3'ou can get rid of your spats ; 
Your rows with 30ur wives and the nation 

Will end with this one stroke of wit : 
Indulge in a new revelation — 
That's it! 

Don't play the cheap martyr in prison ; 

Don't speak of rebellion as " grand ; " 
Don't prattle of " Darkness arisen ; " 

Don't talk about quitting the land ; 
Don't grumble of slander and libel, 

But learn a more excellent way — 
Hatch out a new leaf for your Bible 
And stay. 

Address all the Saints and say " Some im- 
provement takes place, I suppose ; 
I've looked through the Urim and Thummim 

And new rules they plainlj' disclose ; 
The Elders henceforth will be loneh- 

Divorced from companions for life, 
For 'tis writ that a man can have only 
One wife. 



OFF VERA CRUZ. oq 

" Sid Rigdon shows up as the Prophet, 

And says ' it's removin the cuss '— 
That ' Providence probably saw fit 

To harass the early saints thus,' 
But one wife's an awful affliction, 

And two is too much for a Saint ; 
Nonsensical ? It's my conviction 
It ain't ! " 

O, chief of the alkaline harem ! 

Behold the trail out of the wood ! 
I send you this friendly alarum — 

Here's hoping you'll do as you should ! 
Set grass-widows off with a pension, 

Send children to Government schools — 
Polygamy ? — It's the invention 
Of fools ! 



OFF VERA CRUZ. 
A Ballade. 

O, bounteous life that came to me 
Where Earth her every grace arrays 

In cactus, palm and orange tree, 
And all her opulence displays 
Within the Tropic's tangled maze ; 

Where Oi'izaba's peak of snow 

Nods to Malinche through the haze 

Beyond the Gulf of Mexico. 

We left the land upon the lee, — 

Its beaches brown and peaceful l^aj^s — 

And drifted silent down the sea 

Where gannet dives and dolphin plays, 



The prophecy and other poems. 

Where the physalia sets her stays 
And purple sail in splendid show, 

Reflecting all the sunset's rays 
Upon the Gulf of Mexico. 

O, tropic night ! Thy glories be 

Responsive Nature's fairest phase, 
Ever the zephj-r wanders free, 

And the inconstant planet strays ; 

Canopus sings his song of praise ; 
New constellations rise, and, lo ! 

The southern crucifix ablaze 
Above the Gulf of Mexico ! 

L' Envoi ! 
Serene delights and pleasant ways ! 

How life is sweetened b}- the flow 
Of silver nights and golden days 

Above the Gulf of Mexico ! 



A HERO OF BENNINGTON, 
AT THE Centennial Celebration— 1875. 

" My granther fit at Benningtown," 

The old man proudly said, 
As tears his furrowed cheeks ran down 

And drooped his silvered head. 

" He fought at Bennington, 3'ou say ? " 

Jo Hawley asked him, " we 
Shall celebrate the fight to-day — 

Old hero, come with me ! " 

" Thy grandsire fought at Bennington ? " 
Repeated General Grant ; 



A HRRO OF BENNINGTON. 

" Take thou the head ; thou seeiiist as one 
Whom Providence hath sent." 

" Sit on the stand ! Ride in the 'bus ! " 

Cried grateful General Banks ; 
" O, patriot sire, come marshal us 
As leader of our ranks ! " 

He in a crimson carriage grand 

The brave procession led ; 
He sat conspicuous on the stand ; 

He in the tent was fed. 

When the mock Hessians charged on Stark 

He raised a battle cry ; 
With wrath his eager face grew dark 

And fire was in his ej-e. 

Then Sherman said, " Thou hero hale, 

'Tis Freedom's jubilee ; 
I prithee tell us now the tale 
The veteran told to thee." 

The old man slowly rose and said 

" I've hearn mj^ granther tell 
How gallant Baum the redcoats led 

And gin the Rebels well 

" The rebel force was two to one ; 

Baum knocked 'em in a heap ! 
O, how the Yankees cut an' run ! — 

Yis ! Cut an' run like sheep ! 

" My granther fit at Benningtown — 

Fit in the Tory ranks, 
And — " then he was escorted down 

By stalwart General Banks, 



I02 THE rRoriincY and other poems. 

As he was hustled from the stand 

They heard the hero say 
" 'Taint so ! We whaled the Rebel band — 

Old Stark was licked that day ! " 



REPLY TO BISHOP COXE.25 

O, man of God ! this crime deplore ! 
Why should thy brother's blood outpour 
In hateful tides of turbid gore 
From Dardanelles to Danube's shore ? 

Be still— be still ! 

Blaspheme no more ! 

God help the babes ! God bless the wives ! 
Shame on the priests that whet the knives ! 
Shame on the church whose altar thrives 
By wrecking peaceful peasants' lives ! 

Be still— be still ! 

'Tis Hell that drives ! 

How long, O Lord, before thy shrine 
Shall men pray " Vengeance, God, is Thine," 
Then worship Moloch as divine, 
And drink the battle's bloody wine ? 
Be still— be still 
O, heart of mine ! 

Forward the Race ! Let creeds impart 
No barb of poison to the dart 
That flies from Mammon's bow, or start 
Tasmanian devils in the heart ! 

Be still— be still ! 

Love sits apart. 



thb; president's au revoir. 103 

'* God bless the Czar ? " Beuealh his eye 
Poor Poland writhes and cannot die, 
And as the bandit's minions plj' 
The knout, to Heaven ascends her cr^-. 

Be still— be still ! 

O, infamy ! 

Put up the sword ! And ne'er again 
Let the grim Crusade's fiery train 
Drag o'er the earth its awful stain — 
'Tis branded with the curse of Cain ! 

Be still— be still ! 

Let Mercy reign. 

Come Holy Peace ! May Muscovite 
And Moslem end their wretched fight ; 
Women with songs shall hail the light, 
And children flock with flags of white — 

Be still— be still— 

O, sacred sight ! 



THE PRESIDENT'S AU REVOIR. 
Summer Vacation. 

Farewell, ye goddess of the Dome, 

Upon your dizzy height ; 
Farewell, ye temporary home 

"Which they have painted White. 
Farewell ! Upon the wings of steam 

I go where none intrudes, 
To fling the fly * along the stream 

In Adirondack woods. 



I04 thh; prophecy and other poems. 

Farewell ! Wliere life is uewly born 

And brooks are murmuring, 
I'll sit upon the porch at morn 

And hear the thrushes f sing ; 
Oho ! the red deer J I will slay, 

And, in my merry moods, 
I'll make the panther § stand at bay 

In Adirondack woods. 

Where Nature's beauties most abound 

Will I the salmon || snare, 
As soothing visions f gather round 

My nightly pillow there. 
And when we meet again, I ween, 

Mid Winter's interludes, 
I'll tell you what I've heard and seen 

In Adirondack woods. 

* Worm. 2 Woodchuck. 

t Bullfrogs. II Bullhead. 

t Rabbits. | Big Mosquitoes. 



THE SOLDIER'vS DAUHGTER. 

A DiAT^oGUE OF Decoration Day. 

Daughter : 

Papa, I never understand 

How 'twas you had to go and fight 
Down in the sultry southern land — 

O, years before I saw the light — 
A prisoner, too, in Florida, 
Where, afterwards, you found mamma. 



THE SOI.DIER'S daughter. loS 

Father : 

Not understand, my child ? The gun 

They fired on Sumter summoned me : 
I went to keep the nation one ; 

I went to make the nation free ; 
I went and fought to fix anew 
Our stars within the field of blue ! 

Daughter : 

Yes, but mamma was " rebel born," 

As laughingly she says to you. 
And from a rebel hearth was torn ; 

Her father and her brother, too, 
Grandfather Blake and Uncle Jo 
Fought on the southern side, you know. 

Father : 
Two good men, honestly misled ; 

They thought the right was on their side. 
Poor Jo ! A splendid man, they said ; 

He fell and gave one gasp and died 
While charging in a battery's jaw 
Along the base of Kenesaw. 

Daughter : 

And you were in that battle, too ? 

And you and he had never met — 
The Gray contending with the Blue ; 

And you and he were there, and yet, — 
We dream those things we cannot see — 
O, it is horrible to me ! 

Father : 

My daughter ! Curb your feelings, child ! 
We sorrow that he died so young ; 



Io6 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

For he was tender, brave and mild, 
And still we hear his praises sung 
By all who knew him. Living, he 
A brother would have been to me ! 

Daughter : 
Your brother ! O, the awful thought 

That haunts me when I am alone, 
That when at Kenesaw you fought, 

Facing each other, all unknown. 
You might have fired the shot, you know, 
That pierced the heart of Uncle Jo ! 

Father : 
Be still, my child ! You drive me mad ! 

The past is dead, and let it rest ! 
Each patriot offered all he had 

To aid the cause he loved the best. 
The greatness of the land to-day 
Proves the Rebellion wrong, I say ! 

Daughter : 
Forgive me, father ! Far from me 

The wish to give your kind heart pain ; 
But why need any killing be 

When what has been may be again ? 
For every war, papa, you know, 
Has men like you and Uncle Jo ! 

Father : 
Right ! right, my child, beyond your ken ! 

Warfare is cruel and accurst ! 
Of all the " settlements " of men 

The gage of battle is the worst. 



REFLECTIONS. I07 

Better draw lots and shake the dice 
And save the sanguinary price ! 

Daughter : 

Papa ! Then how can battle's din 

For men of sense have any charms, 
Unless the right is sure to win ? 

How can they madly rush to arms, 
Knowing what always will befall — 
The loss of much — the risk of all ? 

Father : 

I do not know. A game of chance 

Is every victory of the blade. 
A battle is a demon's dance. 

Where Justice skulks in masquerade. 
Caprice is empire of the fight ; 
For Wrong is strong if Might is right. 

O, that the world were wiser grown ! 

For then would human love bear fruit ; 
Blind hate would for its sins atone, 

And combatants would substitute 
For shot and shell the potent word, 
And Arbitration for the sword ! 

REFLECTIONS. 

A late July goes glimmering by on the wings of a solar beam. 
And its offset is a soda fizz or paleocrystic cream. 
I'd like to steal an April eve and in its embraces lie, 
Or liorrow 

To-morrow 

The morning 

Adorning 

The brow of a winter sky. 



loS The prophecy and other poems. 

The summer is sweet and through the air its odors are every- 
where, 
Ami Washington flies are fond and fleet and Washington 

skies are fair ; 
Before the scythe of the Sun I writhe and shrivel like new, 

mown hay, 
But whether 

The weather 

Is hotter 

Or what are 

The reasons I cannot say. 



MAY DAY. 

'Tis May-day morning, and the sparrow's scream 
Awakes poor Benedict from his sunrise dream ; 
His drowsy spouse alarms him, crying '• Love ! 
Come ! Wake up ! Get up ! We have got to move ! " 
I think 'twas Pope who, praising elegance. 
Said, " Those Move easiest who have learnt to dance !" 
If this be true, how very lucky they 
Who've learnt to shake fantastic toes, to-day ! 
A moving sight ! A far more moving sound ! 
It rends the sky and rumbles on the ground ; 
Lean from the window, lend attentive ear, 
Unwind the racket — tell me what you hear : 
" That blasted cart is three hours late ! " 
" A horse has broke the garden gate ! " 
" The clock — oh dear ! there ! there it goes ! " 
" The parrot bit Mariar's nose ! " 
" How hot ! My fan ! The wind is south ! " 
" Them tacks there ! In the baby's mouth ! 
" I'll sue that man ! " " You're on my dress ! " 



A bi,oodi<e;ss do-ii,i,. 109 

" Tip up the drawer ! O what a mess ! " 

"Jest see them fools stand there and gawp ! " 

"You did!" "I didn't!" " You stop your yawp ! " 

" Come ! Breakfast I " " We'll omit the grace." 

"Jane ! Leave the room ! What's on your face ? " 

" I've tore my coat ! " " I've hurt my hand." 

" Where is my glove ? " " Don't you feel grand ? " 

" Fire ! fire ! " " No, faint' !— a false alarm ! " 

" Pa's got the tongs upon his arm ! " 

" I've broke my parasol — jest see ! " 

" Why, Julia — goodness gracious me ! " 

" I tell you t'ain't ! You drive along ! " 

" Slam, jam, creak, squeak, ding-dong ! ding-dong ! 

" There ! Johnny's in the currant jam ! " 

" You little wretch ! You little it does sometimes seem 

as if I would like to go to an insane asylum a few years 
and rest ! " 



A BIvOODIvRvSvS DO-IIvL. 

In their controversial ardor men will crowd each other 
harder than at other times would seem exactly right. 

And when each the other sasses, papers say " an insult 
passes," and the parties, on a sudden, want to fight. 

When Lareinty and Boulanger, given temporary conge, plan 

a duel to obliterate the stain 
Of the epithet of "coward," and retire with pistols toward 

the forest of Meudon beyond the Seine, 

See the foes each other greeting with a warm embrace at 
meeting ! a friendly smile while waiting for the word ! 

See them shoot their ammunition in the air — (agreed condi- 
tion)— and lo ! their blighted honor is restored ! 



no THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Eut when Bell, with bumptious manner, faces Blinn of 
Indiana, and they swap a lot of unassorted names, 

And the man with landed hobby dares the Hoosier to the 
lobliy to play a part in pugilistic games, 

Though a nose be bathed in claret it is best to grin and bear 
it, for 'tis better than a gun for quenching ire ; 

It is good for cooling off in, and it seldom needs a coflin, and 
the weapon hardly ever misses fire. 



THE KING OF THE CANNIRAIv LSLANDS; 

.\ Dirge on the Occasion or IIis Decease 

And so our royal relative is dead, 

Relieved at last from gustatory labors. 

The white man was his choice, but, when he fed, 

He'd sometimes entertain his tawny neighbors. 

He worshipped, uttering his " Fee-fo-fum,"' 

The goddess of the epigastrium. 

And missionaries graced his festive board, 
Solemn and succulent, in twos and dozens, 
And smoked before their hospitable lord. 
Welcome as if tlie5''d been his second cousins. 
When cold, he warmed them, as he would his kin, 
Thej' came as strangers and he took them in. 

And generous ! O, wasn't he ! I have known him 

Exhibit a celestial amiability ; 

He'd eat an enemy, and then would own him 

Of flavor excellent, despite hostility. 

The cruelest captain in the British Navy 

He buried in an honorable gravy. 



The king of the cannibai, islands. 

He was a man of taste, and justice, too ; 
He oped his mouth for e'en the humblest sinner, 
And three weeks stall-fed an emaciate Jew- 
Before they brought him to the royal dinner. 
With preacher-men he shared his bread and wallet 
And let them nightly occupy his pallet. 

We grow like what we eat. Bad food depresses ; 

Good food exalts us like an inspiration ; 

And missionary on the menu blesses 

And elevates the P'iji population ; 

A people who for years saints, bairns and women att 

Must soon their vilest qualities eliminate. 

But the deceased could never hold a candle 

To those prim, pale-faced people of propriety, 

Who gloat o'er gossip and get fat on scandal — 

The cannibals of civilized society ; 

They drink the blood of brothers with their rations. 

And crush the bones of living reputations. 

They kill the soul ; he only claimed the dwelling ; 
They take the sharpened scalpel of surmises. 
And cleave the sinews where the heart is swelling, 
And slaughter Fame and Honor for their prizes ; 
They make the spirit in the body quiver ; 
They quench the Lights. He only took the Liver ! 

I've known some hardened customers, I wot — 
The toughest fellows — Pagans beyond question — 
I wish had got into his dinner-pot ; 
Although I'm certain thej-'d defy digestion 
And break his jaw and ruin his aesophagus 
Were he the chief of beings anthropophagous ! 



ra The prophecy and other POiiMS. 

How fond he was of children ! To his breast 
The tenderest nurslings gained a free admission ; 
Rank he despised ; nor, if they came well-dressed, 
Cared if they were plebeian or patrician. 
Shade of Leigh Hunt ! O guide this laggard pen 
To write of one who loved his fellow men. 



NINETEEN HUNDRED AND NINETY-EIVE. 

Americans a Century Hence Indulge in a Remi- 
niscence. 

Now, papa, tell me truly, when people used to travel 

In steamboats and in railroad cars, on water and on land, 

Did they wallow in the stormy sea and drag along the gravel, 

Like fishes in the river or like lizards on the sand ? 

Confined to a dead level they must have had a bother 

To keep from breaking down and running into one another. 

Answer : 
They did, my daughter ; oft I've heard my father tell about 

'em. 
And how they used to jump the track and run each other 

down ; 
Bvxt with our levitant balloon we've learned to do without 

'em 
Eor now we fly around the sky in our etherion, 
Like " Queen Celeste," in which we float along the azure 

now, 
Five hundred feet from stem to stern, and paddles at the 

bow. 



NINIiTEKN HUNDRED AND NINHTY-EIVE. II3 

But, Mary dear, some other things are quite as full as 
wonder : 

They used to have a clumsy thing they called a " tele- 
graph " — 

A slow machine for talk between the places far asunder — 

Its poles and wires and chemicals I'm sure would make you 
laugh. 

They hadn't harnessed up the will nor guessed that power 
was in it 

To call a distant friend and get an answer in a minute. 

There's telescopes — why, look at ours ! — see what we are ar- 
riving at ! 
We hail our neighbors now on IMars and Mercury and Venus, 
We swap some signals with them, we find what they are 

driving at ; 
Our microscopes reveal the waj's of ever}- monad genus, 
And show us how spontaneously the flea is generated. 
And how the bugs and butterflies from nothing are created. 

My child, lean out the flying ship ; far downward, larboard- 
looking, 

You see the bankrupt blackened shafts whence L,acka\vaniiu 
coal 

Was spread throughout the land, to light and warm and do 
the cooking ; 

This was before we learned to bore a thousand-fathom hole-^- 

In every town a hot air shaft right through the shell of 
granite 

Draws light and heat from out the inner furnace of the 
planet. 

What progress we have made ! Our biologists have found 
The "missing link" of Darwin in the talking ape of 
Munessey ; 



114 TKE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

And nov,- we know a murderer is mentally unsound — 
Instead of choking him to death we doctor him for lunacy, 
Our philanthropic scientists have proved in many treatisees 
That crime is a disease as much as mumps or meningitis is. 

At one time people used to kill the sheep and hogs and 

cattle, 
And boil and fry them on the fire and eat them just like 

savages ; 
But now we have our patent rotary food-condenser that'll 
Give every mouth enough to eat and banish hunger's ravages. 
Pour in a pint of nitrogen and mix in the accoutrement 
Carbon and salts in appetizing forms of human nutriment. 

But let us not be proud. If man, aspiring to the stars, 
By his own will succeeds in overcoming gravitation. 
If Brown, who visited the moon, succeeds in finding Mars, 
And plants among the asteroids a Yankee signal station, 
Our commonplace inventions will seem tame enough and 

many '11 
Think us behind the times as we the folks of the Centennial. 



IN CONTRAST. 

Give thanks ? Why, yes ; for, on the whole, we fly 
The happiest banner underneath the sky ; 
Good wages, food abundant, time well spent, 
With onl)- Labor's wholesome discontent ; 
England has anarchy, and France has want. 
Through Russia totters Famine's spectre gaunt, 
Turkey all covet, and in Mexico 
The pulque-factories fill the land with woe ; 
Italy's sick, and, if the truth were known. 
There's a bent pin on the Bulgarian throne. 



MOLI<Y CHAPMAN. II5 

TO MY GREAT-GREAT-GRANDMOTHER'vS PORTRAIT. 

1747-1894. 

Molly Chapman — charining Molly ! 

Years a wife — a centur)- sainted — 
Though perchance they called you " Polly" 

When you had your picture painted ; 
When they made j-our prettiest gown 

And arraj'ed you in your smartest, 
Curled 3-our hair and sent to town 

For the " famous Boston artist." 

Molly Chapman — laughing Molly ! 

Brightening all the ways of Fairfield 
As the jewels of the holly 

Fill with beauty's grace a bare field ; 
Lips where Cupid loves to tipple — 

How the rogue with fervor woos 'em ! 
Muslin mull in man)' a ripple 

Dancing round your ample bosom. 

Molly ! Dreaming, beaming Molly ! 

" Sweet sixteen ? " I'd guess you twenty ; 
Rosy mouth, demure but joll}', 

Rich in kisses, chaste and plenty ; 
Brow discreet o'er charms presiding, 

All defending from disaster ; 
Flair that holds the night in hiding ; 

Neck and shoulders alabaster ; 

Eyes of wonder — pensive Molly ! 

Bluer than the bluest gentian ; 
Dreaming of the great worl'l's folly, 

Filled with pitying apprehension 
For the revelers of the region 



ir6 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Pleasure's hand would hold the cup to ; 
For the mischiefs, large and legion, 
Your descendants would be up to ! 

Yet they tell us — blushing Molly — 

You, in far off days colonial, 
'Neath the mistletoe and holly 

Tied the knottings matrimonial. 
Therefore would we bless the fillet 

So beneficent and fateful. 
And, because we live to tell it, 

On the whole we're rather grateful ! 

Who was Jedediah, Molly ? 

He, obedient to whose order 
Continentals fired a volley 

Far beyond the northern border ? 
Mother's father's father's father — 

Years a phalanx constitute him ; 
Half a thousand now could gather 

Round your picture and salute him ! 

" Yes " you answered ; thank you, Molly ! 

In that word existence met us ; 
We should all be melancholy 

If you'd happened to forget us ! 
Had you sworn a virgin's vow 

We, who share ancestral bounty, 
Couldn't drink, as we do now, 

" To the belle of Fairfield County ! " 



The fair soubrette, the beauteous blonde, Dc Bow, 
Wears on her head the light fantastic tow. 



THE DAY WE CEI,EBRATE. 

THE DAY WE CELEBRATE. 

When the racket was begun, 

(Zip! Clang!) 
Boys were hungry for the fun, 

(Zip! Clang!) 
Ouill-wheels, crackers, pots and rockets 
Started eyeballs from their sockets ; 
We are thankful it is done— 

(Zip! Clang!) 

How the noisy legions come ! 

(Pop! Whizz!) 
Bells and cannon, fife and drum, 

(Pop ! Whizz!) 
Baby's sick. " Pa— I'm afraid 
She had too much lemonade — " 
Man is ailing — two much rum— 

(Pop ! Whizz ! ) 

Forty buildings are afire ! 

(Ding-dong !') 
Elames are flashing nigher — higher— 

(Ding-dong ! ) 
But the boy must have a spree 
Spite of brands and ashes, re- 
Membering his patriot sire, 

(Ding-dong ! ) 

" Mary shot right through the head ! " 
(Flash ! Bang ! ) 

She falls down— is dying !— dead ! 
(Flash! Bang!) 



Il8 THE PROPI^ECV AND OTHER POEMS. 

" Little Joseph difln't know 
It was loaded, Poor Jo ! " 
That is what his mother said. 
(Flash ! BanK!) 

SILHOUETTES— IMPROIMPTU. 



De Lancb;y Kane. 

O, whose eye hath seen romances, 

Losses, gains, 
Life, its changes and its chances, 

And its pains ? 
Seen, as year on year advances. 

Silken skeins 
Woven into gossamer fancies, 

Iron chains ? 
Seen the v.ildest steed that prances 
Under maddening circumstances 

'Neath the reins ? 
Seen intoxicating glances. 
In delirious giddy dances, 
Such as Egypt's such as France's, 

vSuch as vSpain's ? 
vSeen the rapture that entrances ? 
Seen affection that enhances 
Every pleasure ? 

Why, De Lancey's— 
Colonel Kane's ! 

WOODUC, A YOI'NG sSrORTSMAN. 

Oh, Woodie ! Don't shoot, useless havoc creating — 

Like Captain Scott's coon we'll come down without waiting ; 



SILHOUETTES— IMPROMPTU. II9 

Thy xaiue-ljat^- is filled with an endless variety — 
The bird oil the wing and the bird in society ; 
Yea, sportsman ! The list of thy victims embraces 
The feather-clad duck and the duck that's in laces. 



Commodore Nicholson's Christmas Dinner — Saint 
Nick to Old Nick. 

My boy, I've heard your praises sung 

By old and young ; 
You've taught old Neptune how to sail 

Before a gale : 
You've learned how best to entertain 

On land and main : 
You've wooed the Muses and they threw 

Some bays to you ; 
You love the little girls and boys 

And simple joys, 
And kiuiw exactly where they live, 

And how to give. 
I'm tired. Come here ! Bend down your back ! 

There ! Take my pack ! 



A Toast, to Annie, the Songstress. 

Here's a brimming glass to Annie — 

And a salutation meet, 
For her face is fair and cannj' 

And her voice is blithe and sweet. 
When her lip., a ballad utter 

'Tis a joy to lean and listen — 
There be gentle hearts that flutter — 

There be tender eyes that glisten ; 



THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

All the thrushes gather near her 
From the maples on the hill, 

And the robins flock to hear her 
And the larks keep still. 



A Lady who was a Famous Cook. 

A diner-out to quer}' " whence 
Come motives of benevolence ? — 

The heart — what touch expands it ? " 
Replied in wise but jovial mood, 
" The impulses to human good 
Are chiefly due to well-cooked food — 

Our hostess understands it : 
Her guest reveals his happiest bent. 
Rejoices in a life well-spent, 
F'eels such complacent self-content. 

Such sympathy for sinners, 
He swallows scrui)les and regrets, 
Forgives his creditors, forgets 
His peccadilloes and his deljts 

When he hath eat her dinners ! " 

SiBYi,, A Lady very Fond of Fi,owers. 

When Sibyl, priestess of Cuuilb, 
Told to Anchises' son his fate, 

" Write not on fragile leaves," cried he 
" Thy visions of the nether gate ; 

For Zephyr robs me of the prize — 

He whirls them off before my eyes ! " 

Since then, the witches of her name 
Write in their fortune-telling bowers 



SIIvHOUETTES — IMPROMPTU. 121 

On Flora's pyramids of flame, 

The leaves transmuted into flowers — 
Upon the lily's fragrant snows 
And petals of the golden rose. 

A Young Lady Fond of Painting and Devoted to 
Charity. 

Both Charity and Art alike require 

The highest genius. Few know how to give. 

A misplaced coin upon a suppliant palm 

May burn and brand that palm through wretched years. 

The artist hand that holds the brusli " Relief " 

IMust wield it skillfully or it will mar 

More than repair. The e3-e that guides its path 

vShould know the lights and shadows of the world, 

The chiaroscuro of the life of man, 

The blended tints of joy and hope and love, 

If it would ope the door of Want, and there 

Kfface the dismal pictures of the j)oor. 

John — A Famou.s Discipi.e of Wai^ton. 

Fre John the Fisherman was born 
Bold salmon laughed the rod to scorn, 
And flashed their gold among the hills ; 
Trout, jeering, twinkled down the rills. 
The pickerel with sport were gay 
And made a joyous holida}'. 
But now how is it ? 

Now, alas 
Frightened they hide in tangled grass, 
'Neath shady bank they silent lie 
Since John the Skillful cast a fly ; 



THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

In terror lurk and hold their breath 
Knowing discovery is death, 
And big trout to their babies say 
"Look sharp for Fisher John to-da}-." 

A Young Sportsman, Reginai^d. 

A maiden strolled down b}' the creek 

And, a quail flitting b}-. 
She warbled " Look out, little chick, 

And take care how you fly. 
If Reginald sees you, you're dead ! 

lie's adept at his art ; 
He can hit any bird in the liead — 

Any girl in the heart ! " 

THE FORT AT ST. J0IIN.2B 

A ship arrived in Boston Bay, 

Lord De la Tour commanding it. 
Two centuries ago, and he 

To aid their iiuderstanding it, 
F.xclaimed, " I am a Huguenot ! 

And Papists are attacking me ; 
I want some soldiers, ships and shot, 

If Protestants are backing me. 

A man of sin. Lord Charnissey, 

Has swooped upon my garrison 
At fair St. John, with cruelty 

And rage beyond comparison. 
My fearless wife defends the fort, 

Nor mercy seeks, nor lenity, 
But Presbyterian support 

From Puritan humanity." 



THE FORT AT ST. JOHN. 123 

The iiioetiiig house they opened wide. 

The Captain told his narrative ; 
And some inquired for light to guide 

While some were more declarative, 
At which the deacon rose and said, 

" There clearly some division is ; 
So we will have the Bible read 

And see what its decision is." 

They conned its lessons and commands. 

Its promises and menaces, 
The back and forth of Judah's bauds 

From Malachi to Genesis. 
And listening to the scripture they 

Agreed that pain and misery *11 
Afflict the souls that disobey 

An ordinance of Israel. 

And one upspake : " Those men of God, 

Of h'oliness and mettle, meant 
That saints should never spare the rod, 

But force a righteous settlement. 
For did not Canaan draw its sword, 

With Ashur days and Gideon nights. 
To wreak the vengeance of the Lord 

Upon the wicked Midianites ? " 

Another cried, " We are forl)id 

To lead a warlike column on 
Not only by what Ira did, 

But by the words of vSolonion 
Directed to Jehoshaphat, 

Who lionored the canonicals — 
The nineteenth chapter settles tliat — 

Verse two, of Second Chronicles." 



124 THE PROPIIKCV AND OTHER POEMS. 

Auother said, " The Christian swords 

Should smite the heathen's very tents. 
We are the Lord's, and pagan hordes 

Are give for our inheritance. 
As ^Yarning folks who interfere 

And swagger in the way of us, 
Saint Peter clipped the hired man's ear. 

And sent it down to Caiaphas. 

" And Jeremire, don't 3-e know. 

Encouraged Judah's rabble on 
To arm and go, and fight the foe 

And punish sinful Babylon ? 
When Satan leads his horrid host 

'Tis blood their sin must wash away 
From Baal-gad to Jordan's coast — 

See Chapter XII of Joshua." 

" Let's sail this morning ! " one advised ; 

" Let's stay at home ! " his brother said ; 
And each his own opinion prized 

Unmindful what the otner said. 
Three weeks they argued pro and con 

About the harried settlement. 
While Pajiists rained their 1)lows upon 

The fort's beleaguered battlement. 

At last relief was voted, and 

A dozen ships were fitted out, 
And under De la Tour's command. 

The expedition flitted out 
To seek the far-off Fundy's shore, 

And vSt. John's fortress, where a pet 
Of England's, Mrs. Be la Tour, 

W^is fighting on the parapet. 



TIIK FORT AT ST. JOHN. 125 

A courier came. " Too late ! Too late ! 

The bloody-handed Saracen 
Has seized the fort — oh, wretched fate ! 

And slain the captive garrison ! 
He killed your wife, but gave his life — 

A dastard way of ending it : 
His lad)', who siirvived the strife 

Is in the fort defending it." 

He took the glass and loud exclaimed ; 

" I see a lady !— is it her ? 
O, nominative case be blamed ! 

Detail a squad — I'll visit her ! 
A lovely form and dancing eye ! 

This fatal contiguit}- ! 
The fortress I'll recover by 

My British ingenuit}- ! " 

He marched — a white flag waved above — 

The widow C. awaiting it ; 
He went, he saw, he fell in love 

And she reciprocated it. 
Tlie two were wed ; the roses bloomed 

And breathed their fragrant flattery, 
And on the wedding morning boomed 

The fort's abundant batter}-. 

The widow Charnissey resigned 

As their commanding ofiicer. 
And said " M3' Lord, I'll march behind 

And make your toast and coffee, sir ! " 
In Cupid's flame the coldest thaws ; — 

How charming must the sight have been ! 
They talked about how luckj- 'twas 

And how much worse it might have been ! 



126 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Their late beloved they buried deep, 

And sadly said " What folly was 
The hate that such a crop could reap ! 

Their lot how melancholy was ! 
The heart grows sick with hatred, for 

We're human ; but to cure it an 
Embrace is better far than war, 

And Cupid beats the Puritan ! " 



THE MEOATIIKRIUM. 

Apostropiik to the Gigantic ArmadiIvI,o ruicsiaivicn in 
Ward's Pilaster Casts. 

Hail, thou awful form ! Hail imperial browser ! 
Vast similitude of bone and fatty matter ! 
Hail ! thou lantern-jawed apparition, where the 
Dickens didst thou come from ? 

Awe-inspiring monster ! Chalky anticlinal ! 
Stomach like a walking Heidelbergan beer-vat ! 
Foot a plantigrade, tempting to the weary 
Like a fossil sofa. 

Didst thou feed on ants ? P.asketful a minute ? 
Were they very plenty ? Did thy ration dwimlle ? 
Didst become a glutton, till thy food's extinction 
Made thee kick the bucket ? 

What a head thou hast for to fit a hat on ! 
P'ull of brains it must have held at least a hogshead ! 
What an editor thou wouldst have lieen to lun the 
P.sychozoic Herald ! 



THE TOII.ER. 127 

What a mighty arm, stouter than a sawlog ! 
How I should have laughed to behold thee swing it 
Balanced on thy tail and, loudly yelling " Whoop-la ! " 
Walloping the outfit ! 

Thou hast seen at least a million billion summers ; 
Thine old hoofs have trod Jura-Trias mud-holes, 
O'er Cretaceous landscapes rolled thy visual optics 
Bigger than a barrel ! 

Did the glyptodon and the brontosaurus 
And the pterodactyl trouble thy dominion ? 
Sleep with thee in Tophet ? Share thy dainty breakfast 
Of sulphuric acid ? 

Mighty King of Tramps ! Meso-Cenozoic 
Citizen arrayed in nitrogen nor carbon. 
Welcome ! vSalutamus ! Condescend to take the 
Freedom of the city ! 



THE TOILER. 

To thee my heart o'crflous ! 
To thee who lifted me from lowest deeps, 
And in thy strong arms bore me up the steeps 

Where wild abysses yawned and mountains rose, 
Through centuries sin-beset to better days, 
I lift my grateful praise ! 

All forces pulled me down ; 
The burden of ancestral weakness hung 
About my neck, the days when earth was young 

Mantled my pathway like a giant's frown ; 
Yet, mid the darkness I beheld thee stand 

And felt thy potent hand. 



128 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

What skill and courage thine ! 
What blessings to the famished earth hast brought ! 
What marvels and what miracles hast wrought, 

Amending still creation's rude design ! 
For all thou didst to lift and rescue me, 

My loving thanks to thee ! 

What debt to thee I owe ! 
On cross and scaffold thou hast died for me. 
By torch and fagot, on the maddened sea, 

In blood-stained jungle, in the haunts of woe. 
Eager thy precious love and life to givfe, 
That I and mine might live ! 

From cave of troglodyte 
Thou'st planned our cities ; from the hollowed tree 
Hast called our gallant navies to the sea ; 

From plague and famine, war and stygian night, 
At anvil, bench and loom and whirring wheel 
Hast 1)uilt the commonweal ! 

For me thy blood was shed, 
When thou wast maimed in Ijattle's red recoil ; 
For me wast tortured on the rack of toil ; 

For me the argosies of Science led ; 
For me the fangs of all the dragons drew 
And made the world anew ! 

Thy works I glorify ! 
For me thou'st faced the wreck, the burning mine, 
The anarch's torch, Contagion's lurid sign, 

vSaluting thee for all thy suffering, I 
Would set upon thy brow a diadem 

And kiss thy garment's hem. 



A VISION. 129 

Before our days, the sum 
Of all we prize— laws, language, hamlets, marts, 
Books, patterns, customs, morals, manners, arts, — 

Thou'st fashioned for us in thy martyrdom ; 
Wherefore let earth a glad oblation raise, 

And sing a psalm of praise ! 

A VISION. 

READ AT THE MEETING OK THE GRAND ARMY, IN WASH- 
INGTON, 1892. 

Last night I dreamt a dream of ill 
That made my veins with terror chill. 
And my poor, quivering heart stand still. 

I dreamt foul Treason's dreadful blow 
Had laid the great Repul^lic low 
And slain it,— thirty years ago. 

The old Confederate chief to me 
The Nation's head appeared to be ; 
Its capital— Montgomery. 

Potomac's pride was sad to view ; 
For cattle browsed and grasses grew 
In every spacious avenue. 

Its homes were blighted with decay : 
Its wretched hovels hid from day ; 
Its temples tall in ruin lay. 

Hushed was the patriot's glad acclaim. 
For haggard Want was wed to Shame, 
In mockery of a hero's name. 



I30 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Beneath the dome's high architrave 
An auctioneer, in trappings brave, 
Sold on the block a helpless slave. 

Across the greensward, impotent, 
A baleful broken shadow bent — 
The torso of the monument. 

Grim Bondage over all the land, 
From lucent lake to ocean strand, 
Had laid its paralyzing hand. 

Labor fought Hunger as it could ; 
For Wealth withdrew in sullen mood 
And wheel and spindle silent stood. 

And Death held Freedom as a guest. 

In Slavery's shroud her limbs were dressed. 

The asp was at her perfect breast. 

I dreamt, and struggled with dismay — 
The monstrous Ogre on me lay ; — 
I shook it off— and it was day ! 

I looked and sav.- fair visions come — 
The silver bubble of the dome, — 
And knew that Freedom had a home ! 

I saw yon finished shaft immersed 
In radiance stand — the golden burst 
Of sunrise touched its summit first. 

With color all the air was bright, 
For blossoms, blue and red and white, 
Had climbed the halyards in the night ! 

I heard the drum's exultant rout — 

I seized a flag and shook it out 

And shouted to the answering shout : 



SONG OIfTHESII«KI,OOM. 131 

" Hurrah ! See mighty justice win ! 

Columbia's sons are all akin ; 

The homestead's safe ! Come in ! Come in ! 

•' Come in and rest, ye worn and scarred ; 
A world's applause is jj^our reward — 
Freedom's exultant body-guard ! 

" Come bind again her virgin zone 
And sit beside her burnished throne — 
Her opulent halls are all your own ! " 



SONG OF THE SILK LOOM. 

I'm busy all day — 

I'm busy all day — 

The work is but play — 
The work is I)ut play — , 

The wages of toil — 

The wages of toil — 

A spoonful of oil — 
A spoonful of oil — 

My masters may plan — 
My masters may plan — 
I'm robbing no man — 
I'm robbing no man — 

Fatigue I ne'er feel — 

Fatigue I ne'er feel — 

My muscles are steel — 
My muscles are steel — 

And much can endure — 
And much can endure — 



132 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

I work for the poor — 
I work for the poor — 

Their homes I adorn — 
Their homes I adorn — 
In tints of the morn— 
In tints of the morn — 

Their children I fold — 
Their children I fold — 
In raiment of gold — 
In raiment of gold — 

Their wives I array — 
Their wives I array — 
In garniture gay — 
In garniture gay — 

Like drapery seen — 

lyike drapery seen — 

On duchess and queen — 
On duchess and queen — 

I blessings insure — 

I blessings insure — 

I work for the poor — 
I work for the poor — 

I work with the best — 
I work with the best — 
And ask for no rest — 
And ask for no rest — 

I cheerfully sing — 

I cheerfully sing — 

The bobbin I fling — 
The bobbin I fling— 



THE BEST GOVERNMENT. I33 

It's touch is aglow — 
It's touch is aglow — 

With roses and lo — 

With roses and lo — 

All over the room — 
All over the room — 

The warp is abloom — 

The warp is abloom — 

I much can endure — 
I much can endure — 

I work for the poor — 

I work for the poor — 

THE BEST GOVERNMENT. 

In far Missouri's Council Hall 

The Hon'ble Nicholas Price arose— 
'Twas a sultry day in the later fall, 

When the first day's session crept to a close ; 
They paused to hear what he had to say, 

And he said, with aspect sad and stern 
(As if it had troubled his mind all day), 

" I move that the House do now adjourn ! " 

It did. When next day drew to an end. 

The Hon'ble Nicholas Price arose 
With wrathful mien, as if to defend 

His country against her hated foes. 
He lifted his quivering hand on high 

And unto the Speaker was seen to turn. 
And he shouted (a tear in his pensive eye) 

*' I move that the House do now adjourn ! " 



134 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

So day by daj-, and week by week, 

The Hon'ble Nicholas Price was there ; 
The members smiled when he rose to speak, 

For he always had such an injured air. 
He waived his arms and shook his head 

And for social sympathy seemed to yearn, 
And he said ('twas all he ever said) 

" I move that the House do now adjourn ! " 

His soul was happy in that one plaint ; 

And his constituents rose and said 
" Our member ain't any slouch, he ain't ! " 

And they gave him a cane with a golden head. 
His brain was big with affairs of state ; 

With high ambition he seemed to burn ; 
Bui he cried (perhaps he was truly great) 

" I move that the House do now adjourn ! " 

A teacher was ho in the I'abiau school ; 

In the pulpit of I/aissez faire the pricsl ; 
He held to the homeopathic rule : 

" The physic is 1)est that physics least." 
Perchance 'twas wise that thus lie spcil 

The lesson we're all of us slow to learn, 
In sa}-iug (it needs to be often said) 

" I move that the House do now adjourn ! " 

A SAY ON MAN. 

Awake St. Lager ! Leave all idle camps 
To mad perdition — and the pride of tramps ; 
Let us (since thou wilt earn, when law allows, 
Thy bread by sweat of other people's brows) 
Expatiate free o'er all the realm of work, — 
A mighty maze, attractive to a shirk. 



A SAY ON MAN. 135 

Let us go bellowing thro this foamy field 
And see what lives of laziness can yield ; 
Give Labor holiday, scorn Hunger's whips 
And snatch the biscuit from the children's lips ; 
Be sober when we may, quaff what we can, 
And spurn the ways of Vanderbilt to man. 

Beneath thy red flag, Saint of the Commune ! 
The fool begins his bloody bout too soon ; 
Crazed to the core, he in a war engages 
And smites the hand just raised to shed his v.ages ! 
Wisdom observes, with no superfluous clack, 
A handcar or a comet fly the track. 
The death of planet or potato-bug, 
. And now an ocean drained and now a mug. 

Holes spring eternal in the human purse ; 

Man hopes, and strikes, and goes from bad to worse ; 

Will wealth flow freely to the Anarch's wand ? 

Will angry words make larger the demand ? 

Is wage not measured by supply of skill ? 

Will water volunteer to run up hill ? 

In work, in steady work, all honor lies ; 
The best man ever has a chance to rise ; 
If plucky, there need be no looking back 
I'or him who v/heels a barrow down the track ; 
The trackman as a brakeman soon appears ; 
Ihakemeu are stokers ; stokers engineers ; 
The engineers become conductors then, 
And use their wits directing other men ; 
Conductors persevere in the ascent 
And end, if worthy, in the management. 
Employoe and employer, how allied ! 
What thin partitions brain from brawn divide ! 



136 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

AH are but parts of one stupendous whale 
Whose body credit is, and cash the tail. 

George Henry, who attacks onr equal tax. 

Should con these truths and tread in Wisdom's tracks 

All land is worthless save to prescient men ; 

All profit waiteth for the prophet's ken ; 

All capital is thrift, whose savings grow ; 

All luck is foresight which he does not know ; 

All wealth, frugality, which few have had ; 

All partial mob-law, universal bad ; 

Though Coxey's still at last, and Homestead (juiet. 

This truth is clear, whatever riz was riot. 

OUR FLAG. 

" Haul down the starry flag ? " 
Yea, if unfurled by Brag ! 

Yea, if thieves hung it 
Over a robbers' lair ! 
Yea, if on alien air 

Cowards have flung it ! 

" Under it Perry fought ! " 
Sure ! shall those dearlj- bought 

Folds beatific 
Be used to plunder weak 
Islanders in the l)leak 

Middle Pacific ? 

" Under it Porter sailed." 
True, but he would have jailed 

Jingo and Yahoo 
If they had crossed his keel 
When they consjjired to steal 

Little Oahu ! 



CROOK AND THE APACHES— 1887. I37 

" Cheers for old Freedom's flag! " 
Demagogues use the gag 

Fooling the voters ; 
Profits and politics 
Hiding the huckster tricks 

Of the " promoters ! " 

" Hurrah for liberty ! " 
Ah, our disgrace may be 

Found in the story ! 
Hypocrite cries deceive, 
While Mammon's touch shall leave 

Stains on Old Glory ! 

CROOK AND THE APACHES— 18S7. 

The caroling cowboys, each mounted upon a mo- 
Lasses and mud-colored mule (for " economo ") 
Scour Arizona to capture Geronimo. 

The chief has eluded. They've lassoed and buried an 
Indian or two, that were known to be very dan- 
Gerous marauders, by order of Sheridan. 

Report of a massacre — straightway out goes a 
Command to the camp at the Grand Alamosa 
To send up a squad to defend Tularosa. 

Crook forwards the order, and then he expects a co- 
Ad jutor there will not let redskins vex a co- 
lyonial settlement down in New Mexico. 

Result : Forty scalps, all of hues the most various ; 
And many rough mounds in a region malarious, 
Where earns the war sexton his living precarious. 



138 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

We'd uot like to be the frontiersman who snatches 
Cat-naps o'er his gun till unguarded he catches 
His foe. But then, who'd like to be the Apaches ? 



A WORD FOR THE KANAKAS. 
ZebuIvUn Baxter Talks to Himself (1894). 

Ive read the Houeyluly news 

Thets printed in our weekly paper, 
And blush thet Uncle Sam should choose 

To cut up sech a crooked caper : 
To grab them islands in the sea 

And coolly call it honest dealin ! 
Why, neighbor, it appears to me 

The question is, is stealin stealiu ? 

Ive beared about " the pagan pest," 

The " dreadful crimes," the " pallis revils," 
And how her Magistys possest 

Of two extremely lively devils ; 
But we know all the vices ; let 

Our toughest hoodlums loose a niinit 
Theyd paint the sky bloodred ; I bet 

Queen Lily walky wouldnt be in it ! 

But spose her vices air above 

The everidge ; spose the throne is tainted ; 
And spose the devils spoken of 

Air twice es black es they air painted ; 
What consequence is that while she 

Is to our manliness appealin ? 
Shant we return her propetty ? 

Whoever tis, aint stealin stealin ? 



THE RHINE. 139 

Say ! spose yer neighbor is a crank, 

Or holds a creed you dont believe in ; 
Then spose you go an rob his bank 

An make it yer excuse for thievin ; 
An spose, wen ketched, you up an plead 

You robbed im cause he warnt a Christian, 
You spose twould justify the deed ? 

Is stealift stealin ? thats the question. 

Youd say — so mighty avaricious — 

" The loot is in my hands de facto " 
(French for dishonest) and too vicious 

The owner is to give it back to ! 
So this Highwayman govment says 

While all its pirate bells air pealin. 
But let it dread the comin days — 

Fer most folks think thet stealins stealin ! 



THE RHINE. 

Far up the river southward bound, 
Through vistas of enchanted ground ; 
The hills, with feudal castles crowned, 

Wear mantles of the verdant vine ; 
Along the wave trip fairy bands, 
And Lorelei bewitching stands 
Upon the cliff, and waves her hands 

Above the shadows of the Rhine. 

The precious hill-sides !— every foot 
To fair fertility is put ; 
Bright cereal and fragrant fruit 
Along the teetning valley shine, 



r40 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

And chariniiig pictures are espied 
Behind, before, on either side, 
As through trim terraces we glide 
Around the windings of the Rhine. 

On Rolandseck there hangs a frown ; 
The Drachenfels looks sternly down ; 
Old haunted castle-ruins crown 

The woody heights of Hanimerstein ; 
Tlie Sternberg still could tell a tale 
Of Conrad and the Holy Grail, 
And Guda sees her image pale 

Within the mirror of the Rhine ! 

Here Lahneck bends its swarthy brows. 
On yonder slope King Wenceslaus 
Quaffed of the fatal Asmanhaus 

And swapped his heavy crown for wine ; 
Here floats at anchor on the stream 
A mossy mill whose slow wheels seem 
To slumber as they doze and dream 

And softly dip the drowsy Rhine. 

The pictures ! — how they shift and change 
In magic transposition strange ! 
Here shoots aloft a mountain range. 

Till in the clouds its turrets shine ; 
Here velvet meadows calmly flow 
And brooks come singing soft and low 
Their tinkling treasures to bestow 

Upon the glacier-cradled Rhine. 

Yonder a diva plays coquette 
TJiion a (luc;il parapet, 



THE RHINE. 141 

Aud there a crucifix is set, 

And here a little wayside shrine, 
And here a king without a throne, — 
Without a scepter of his own^- 
Has built a prison-house of stone 

Above the ripples of the Rhine. 

The aster — day's transcendent star — 
Beside the hedge -row shines afar ; 
About the base of Altenaar 

Delinquent honej'suckles twine, 
And many a common meadow flower — 
Child of the Rhenish sun and shower- 
Is sweetly set as beauty's dower 

Along the valley of the Rhine. 

The blossoms down the hill-side chase 
Each other in a merry race 
With eager eye and glowing face : 

Angelica and columbine. 
Campanula and lilies rank 
Run stooping o'er the weedy bank 
Where erst the water-witches drank. 

And dabble in the flowing Rhine. 

The river, when you're southward bound, 
Shows vistas of enchanted ground ; 
The hills, with ruined castles crowned. 

Wear mantles of the fruity vine ; 
Along the wave trip fairy bands. 
And Ivorelei bewitching stands 
Upon the cliff and waves her hands 

Above the shadows of the Rhine. 



142 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

PIvSA TO GENOA. 

From Pisa to Genoa goes the road 

By cliffs that are tunneled and gulfs bestrode, 

Where the Appenines stoop and the sea-waves play 

And the locomotive is splashed with spray ; 

Out of the sun and into the cave 

That opens its maw by the dancing wave, 

Out of the cave and into the sun, 

And into the cave till the day is done. 

Out ! — a little boat nears the shore ; 

A little girl smiles in a cottage door ; 

At the right are sheep on the steep asleep, 

And off at the left the wild waves leap, 

And the crags have learned the rackety knack, 

" Clackaty-clack ! Clackaty-clack ! " 

In ! — I wonder who 'twas afloat. 

And why the maiden was watching the l)oat. 

A roar in the gloom of the rushing car : 

" Waaa ! — aaa ! — aaa ! — aaaaar ! " 

Out ! — We are poised on the airy track — 

" Clackaty-clack ! — clackaty-clack ! " 

Above the savage abyss we're hung. 

And every battlement finds a tongue 

As through the gorge the echoes are flung, 

Hither and yon and out and back — 

Hark ! the bark of a wolfish pack : 

" Clackaty-clack ! — clackatj^-clack ! " 

Out of the cave and into the sun, 

And into the cave till the ride is run. 

A mountain-brook from a high rock springs ; 

A bird stands still on fluttering wings ; 

A baby is sleeping beneath a tree, . 

And the sun is white on a sail at sea 



IN 1864. 143 

In ! — How brave was the brooklet's leap ; 

How very fair was the child asleep ! 

How sweet was the sun on the sail afar ! — 

" Waaa ! — aaa ! — aaa ! — aaaaar ! " 

Out of the cave, and into the sun, 

And into the cave till the day is done. 

Out ! — how purple the clusters hang ! 

In ! — the bang of the angry clang ! — 

" Waa — aaa ! Clackaty-clack ! " 

Every rock renews the attack ; 

But a glimpse is caught of a castle high, 

And a moldy church in a perch near by, 

And groves of olives that shine between, 

And a cottage that sits on a slope serene, 

And a lateen sail at the harbor-bar. 

" Waaa ! — aaa ! — aaa ! — aaaaar ! " 

Out of the glory, into the gloom, 

An arabesque shot on a granite loom, 

Where ever and ever the shuttle fills 

With warp of the cloud and woof of the hills, 

And the silver thread of the shining rills. 

We cleave the mountain and leap the vale ; 

From Pisa to Genoa runs the rail. 

Out of the sun and into the cave 

That opens its maw b}- the dancing wave ; 

Out of the cave, and into the sun. 

And into the cave till the day is done ! 

IN 1864. 

" Thomas still moving " — very good ! 
The cause is clearly understood — 
He doesji't like his neighbor Hood. 



14A THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

A LIVING MEMORY. 

My absent daughter — gentle, gentle maid, 

Your life doth never fade ! 
O, everywhere I see your blue eyes shine, 
And on my heart, in healing or command, 
I feel the pressure of your small, warm hand 
That slipped at dawn, almost without a sign, 
So softly out of mine ! 

The birds all sing of 3^ou, my darling one ; 

Your day was just begun. 
But you had learned to love all things that grew 
And when I linger by the streamlet's side 
Where weed and bush to you were glorified. 
The violet looks up as if it knew 
And talks to me of you. 

The lily dreams of you. The pensive rose 

Reveals you where it glows 
In i)urple trance above the waterfall ; 
The fragrant fern rejoices Ijy the pond, 
And sets your dear face in its feathery frond ; 
The winds blow chill, but, sounding over all, 
I hear your sweet voice call ! 

My gentle daughter ! With us you have stayed. 

Your life doth never fade ! 
O, evermore I see your blue eyes shine. 
In subtle moods I cannot understand, 
I feel the flutter of your tender hand 
That slipped at dawn, almost without a sign, 
So softly out of mine ! 



A Thoroughfare; under the ocean, 145 

A WARNING. 

Our office door was open swung 

And in there strode a rural feller 
Whose jaw was rather loosely hung ; 

He waved his cotton umbereller 
And shouted " Here ! I've came to bring 

(I've traveled fast and traveled far) 
A poem on the Vernal Spring" — 

'Twas all he said. There was a jar. 
A sulphurous cloud came through the floor ; 

A smothered wail of discontent 
Arose ; I never saw him more 

Or even knew which way he went. 
There is no subterranean vat 

In which to cook a tiresome feller, 
But our old janitor wears his hat 

And sports his cotton umbereller. 

A THOROUGHFARE UNDER THE OCEAN. 

Far off to the northward, Fire Island 

Sits low, like a heron at rest ; 
As the pleasant breeze slips from the liigliland 

The white ripples break at its breast ; 
And inland the gardens, displaying 

Their beauty, with blossoms are rife. 
Where rootlets insensate are laying 

Their lips to the fountains of life. 

Our steamer leaps light through the water, 

Alert as a bird on the land ; 
It seems as though Neptune had caught her 

And held her aloft in his hand. 



r46 THR PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

And yet, taking all things together, 
The chances of losses and gain, 

The icebergs, the wind and the weather, 
My preference is for the train. 

A thoroughfare under the sea 

Is what the Parisians propose. 
How snug and secure it would be. 

Away from the billows and blows ! 
Away from the bridges and trestles, 

With merely a rhythmical motion — 
Away from the breakers and vessels — 

A thoroughfare under the ocean ! 

" All aboard for a dive for New York ! " 

All aboard for the plunge to go back ! 
The cars, being light as a cork, 

Would have to run under the track ; 
For they'd pop to the top like a bubble 

Attempting a free locomotion, 
And then it would get into trouble — 

The thoroughfare under the ocean. 

What larks in trolling for sharks ! 

What gales in bobbing for whales ! 
What ghosts from barnacled barks 

Would break out of submarine jails ! 
What mermaids arisen from slumber 

Would splash the saliferous lotion ! 
O, sights and delights without number— 

The thoroughfare under the ocean ! 

A fleet without paddle or sail ; 

A train without throttle or steam ; 



THE ARRIVAL OF THE MESSIAH. 147 

Tied to a leviathan's tail 

♦Twould fly like a soul in a dream. 
If tourists would seek for the treasure 

In old sunken wrecks, I've a notion 
'Twould prove both a profit and pleasure, 

This thoroughfare under the ocean. 



TO ITALY. 

Italia ! Heritage of sun and song ! 

Through vistas of the Rhenish Alps I gaze 
At thy mirage above the Southern haze. 

Where languidly the Arno creeps along 

The land beloved of poets. Still among 
The Tuscan vines the sportive satyr plays 
As in the pleasant old Arcadian days 

When Dante wrote and Beatrice was young. 

And yet is thine a melancholy dower 
Of beauty, for 'tis very sad to see 
So fair a land so full of sorrowing ! 

How long shall timid peasants kneel to power, 
And by anointed robbers plundered be — 
The twin banditti of the priest and king ! 

THE ARRIVAL OF THR MESSIAH. 

The pews were nearly empty. Here and there 
A sombre woman watched her little brood 
Who hitched about and thought of pleasant fields ; 
For all the air was warm with summer's breath. 
And maple twigs that touched the window-sill 
Were sentient with the robin's liquid song, 
Which playfully flung up and tossed about 
The last faint note the fluttering organ breathed, 



148 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Until it whistled from the groined arch 
To living arch of green. A few lone men 
Sought postures for a comfortable rest 
Upon the velvet cushions. Fronting all, 
The spacious carven pulpit lifted high 
A swarthy man whose soft melodious voice 
Was pitched upon a single quavering note 
Monotonous for warning or reproof. 

Beneath his outstretched hand a spotless cloth 

Concealed the sanguinary sacrifice — 

The symbols of the body and the blood 

Of Jesus, crucified on Calvar)-. 

And on the snow-white table sifted down 

Through gothic windows rich with classic art, 

The opulent sunshine — red and blue and gold. 

" Oh, heed the meaning of this awful rite ! " 

Appealed the finely modulated tones : 

" The Saviour of the world was slain for you ! 

He was betrayed and nailed upon the cross 

That through the great atonement of his I)lood 

They who believe might have eternal life. 

Neglect this hour and you mayhap are lost 

To perish in the gulf forevermore ! 

And he will come again to judge the world — 

How soon, who knows ? This year ? Perhaps to-diiy ! 

O, ye beloved ! Heed his awful voice ! " 

The women moved uneasily ; the men 
Nodded and yawned and strove to keep awake. 
And still the preacher's soothing voice went on : 

" IvO ! the Messiah will return to earth 

On wings of mercy and avenging wrath 

To judge the quick and dead. To bless or curse. 



THK ARRIVAI, OP THE MESSIAH. 149 

He well may come in these tumultuous times 
When Pestilence walks forth at noonday ; when 
Storms smite the sea and simoons fret the land ; 
When niggard Earth gives forth her scanty yield, 
And Misery dwells in cities ; when the hand 
Of Industry is empty and its voice 
Portends the tempest that shall rock the world ! 
Awake ! ye sinful slumberers — awake." 

He paused. The stertorous breathing showed content. 

Good Deacon Grey against a pillar leaned 

And drew a silken kerchief o'er his head 

And publicly reposed. Sweet odors came 

From grass new-mown ; the buzz of truant bees 

Blent with the murmur of complaining flies 

And filled the aisles with song, as softly fell 

A stranger's footstep in the vestibule. 

He entered : stopped : a man of middle years 

Whom suns had tanned ; a flush upon his cheek. 

Brown, wavy hair and yellow beard unkempt. 

Thin, sympathetic nose and tremulous lip, 

And dark, deep eyes, beneath a brow of pain — 

Around his form a tattered mantle drawn. 

" Awake ! " the preacher cried. " Ye careless souls, 

Beware the judgment when the Christ shall come. 

Beware the menace of that awful hour 

When He shall sternly meet you face to face 

Dispensing life or everlasting death ! 

And if He came to-day and summoned you. 

And stood in yonder door and spread his arms 

As on the hills above Jerusalem, 

And cried aloud ' Ye mortals, I am He ! 

How often have I called you to repent ! ' 



ISO THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

How would you greet the glorious niesseuger ? 
Would you salute Hiiu as the Lord of Souls 
And bow yourselves before Him in the dust ? 
Or would you challenge Him, as Thomas did, 
Deny Him in dismaj', as Peter did, 
Betray Him to the law, as Judas did, 
Or jeer and scoff as did the godless mob, 
If He should stand before you at this hour 
And cry aloud, ' Ye mortals ! I am He ! ' " 

The stranger raised his hands amid the pause 
And loud exclaimed " Ye mortals, I am He ! 
How often have I called you to repent ? 
I am the Christ ye worship, knowing not ; 
Lo ! I am come again to judge the world ! " 

Great was the tumult, and the preacher cried 

*' Impostor and blasphemer, — peace ! be still ! 

Disturber of our worship — get you hence ! " 

The deacon snatched the kerchief from his head, 

And rubbing eyes and muttering " Here ! What's this ? 

The fellow's crazj' ! " hastened from the church. 

And at the corne- rung a little bell. 

" I am the Christ ! " the stranger sternly said. 
'• Must I be stoned again and crucified ? 
Drink vinegar and wear a crown of thorns ? 
Wo ! Wo ! Ye Pharisees and hypocrites 
Who pray and swallow up the widow's home ! 
Who dance, forgetful of the fatherless ! 
Who feast in temples while they starve in huts. 
Who deck the pompous synagogue in gold 
And lift its braggart steeple to the sky 
And robe in silks while millions are in rags ! 
I say again the same thing unto thee : 



THE ARRIVAL, OF THE MESSIAH. 15I 

If thieves shall take thy coat give them thy cloak, 

Or smite thee on the right cheek, turn the left. 

Blessed are they who have no earthly goods, 

For they shall prosper in the life to come. 

Like sparrows, for to-morrow take no thought ; 

If thou hast hoarded for a rainy day 

Sell all thou hast and give it to the poor. 

Tear down thy palaces and follow nie ! 

I am the messenger whom God hath sent — 

His only Son — the man of Nazareth. 

I am the Word, the Way, the Truth, the Life ; 

He who believes on me can never die ! 

And he who doubteth is already damned ! " 

"Here — here! What's this ? " inquired a breathless man 

With shield of brass upon a field of blue, 

" Who's making this disturbance on my beat ? " 

He seized the sad-eyed stranger, dragged him down 

And hurried him away with the remark 

" It's odd how many tramps there is this 3ear." 

The preacher to the women huddled round 

Sagely observed " That man must be insane." 

" Talks just exactly like it," one replied. 

Next morning found the stranger hollow-eyed 
And haggard, standing in the prisoner's dock. 
The officer arraigned him, saying "Judge, 
This anarchist disturbed a Christian church, 
And spoke, your Honor, horrid blasphemy ; 
He claimed that he was Christ, the Son of God ! " 

" And if he is," the pastor softly said, 
" He'd better work a miracle right here 
And save himself from getting into jail." 



152 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

The stranger bowed his head upon his hands, 
And murmured " Ever, evermore the same ! " 

The Judge addressed him : " Vagrant — nothing worsc- 
I sentence you — 'twill help you to reform — 
To twenty days or twenty dollars. Next ! " 

IN THE HOSPITAT^. 

Around St. Luke's the evening air was murk. 
And o'er the river hung enshrouding fogs. 
Within, on weary beds, pale sufferers tossed 
And waited for the ghostly Summoner, 
Or o'er the lawn outside the windows marked 
The laggard Spring put forth her promises 
In cheerful catkins of the Cottonwood. 

Two men upon the darkening couches lay, 
Who never more would look upon the sun. 

Adolphus Potter, known and honored far 
As rector of the church Immanuel, 
With fever wasted, at the door of death, 
Uprose in bed, and, heedless of his pain, 
In trance of exaltation cried aloud. 

" What would'st thou ? " asked the priestly visitor. 
" Thy life hath been an open book of good. 
Thy sins are all forgiven, and at the gate 
The saints await thee, blest to enter in." 

" Almighty Father ! " prayed the suffering man, 

" My one petition grant this final hour ! 

O, save my soul ! Let not my light go out ! 

O, Christ ! As I have praised thee — worshipped thee — 

Now intercede that I may not be lost 



IN THE HOSPITAI,. 153 

And perish iu the bottomless abyss 

Of endless wrath like them who know thee not ! 

Save me, O Lord ! Lift np my shrinking soul 

And bear it to the realms of perfect joy, 

Where sickness never comes, or death, or pain, 

Or loss, or fear, or toil or weariness, 

Or anxious thought or care for those we love — 

The realms of peace and never-ending rest ! 

O, save my soul ! Lord Jesus, save my soul ! 

Let me enjoy the bliss of thine abode 

Where poverty and suffering enter not. 

And where unceasing rise the songs of praise 

To God and to the Lamb — oh ! save my soul ! 

Oh, grant " — convulsively he clasped the hand 

That held his own, fell calmly back and died. 

In Ward i8 lay stretched a man of years — 

A surfman— Benedict Dale of Barnegat. 

A wrinkled, weather-beaten hulk was his. 

All seamed with time and toil and bowed with care. 

Surgeons had left him : he was past all help ; 

For underneath him, from an ugly gap 

Made by a splintered spar, his life-blood oozed. 

•' Good morning ! " spake the priestly visitor. 
" Ah ! I remember you ! A man of deeds ! 
Life-saving Service ! Station down the coast. 
After you fought the storms for twenty years 
Yon have received a very grievous wound." 

The sick man turned his face and murmured " Yes ! 
Ketchcd quite a clip — I got in th' way at last ! 
Shan't weather it. I guess I'm goin' to die ! " 

" We all must die " replied the clergyman, 

" But, brother — have you made your peace with Heaven ? " 



154 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

" Not specially," said Benedict. 

" But your soul," 
Pursued the visitor — " I trust 'tis safe." 

' Weil, now," the sick man whispered, " I declare 
I scurcely ever thought about it once ! 
My soul ? I doubt ef 'tis. »So much to do. 
It had to wait fer more important things." 

" It had to wait ? Your soul ? O, careless man ! " 
Exclaimed the shocked and anxious visitor ; 
" Your soul ! Your soul ! It is the only thing 
That hath importance in this fleeting life ! " 

" It had to wait," persisted Surfman Dale ; 

*' So many folks in trouble all the while, 

So many ships with signals of distress — 

So many fiery torches on the beach — 

So many boats thet founder in the waves — 

Why, scurce a week that some fool cap'u don't 

Wreck a whole ship-load on the Jersey coast. 

Whenever I got thinkin' 'bout my soul 

Some one in trouble took my 'tention off. 

I don't know whether 'twill be saved er not." 

" Unhappy friend ! " the minister rejoined ; 
*' Your state alarms me ! Nothing in this world 
Requires attention like 3'our sinsick soul. 
O, plead in pra)'er that it may perish not ! " 

" Parson." the surfman answered, " do }'ou know, 

A-savin' others' bodies I have had 

A heap more pleasure — cur'ous as it seems — 

Than dwellin' on the savin' of my soul. 

Lately I've thought — I wonder ef it's sin— 



IN THE HOSPITAL. 153 

That my old soul ain't wuth much worrimeut, 
Although I'm shoalin' right in sight o' shore ! " 

" Have you no terror ? Fear you not to die ? 
Remember — 'tis an awful thing to fall 
Into the hands of an Almighty God ! " 

" I shouldn't suppose 'twould be," the surfman said. 

" What of the future ? " asked the clergyman. 

" I've thought o' that," the sick man faintly sighed. 

" If there's another world, as you folks says— 

But then, I reckon you don't reelly know, — 

I'd joy to cruise there, for I tell you what, 

I'd like a chance to rally now ami then 

At sound of bell or cannon helpin' folks 

In peril or in pain, that needs a hand." 

" There are no such, my friend ; all Heaven is joy — 
There is no pain, and none in need of help." 

" None { Then I couldn't labor at my trade. 

I'd rather stay on earth, a thousand times, 

Or die forever when I die to-daj', 

Than dwell in joy while there is misery here, 

Or anybody suffers anywhere. 

Why, I would jest as soon be petrified. 

Among the lost, perhaps, I'd have a chance." 

He paused. His breath almost deserted him ; 

His pulse was but a feebly fluttering thread. 

But he went on, " As I was sayin' Cap — 

And if there is no Heaven — perhaps there ain't, — 

I'd like to hev my comrades bury me 

Beside some common path, and in my name 

Plant vines and cultivate 'em till they bear 



156 THE PROPHKCV AND OTHER POEMS. 

Bushels of grapes a year and free to all ! 
And tell my son, when back he comes from sea, 
Tell Ben I charge him with my latest breath 
To take my vacant place where breakers yell, 
And ships are flung ashore at Barnegat, 
And spend his years in savin' castaways. 
And risk his life that other men may live. 
What for ? To get the greatest happiness : — 
Nothin' I ever tried pays half so well. 
However willin', few accomi)lish much. 
I never saved a half as man)' lives 
As Surf man Hard)-, who — " 

A silence fell. 
The white lips trembling, spake no more ; the eyes 
Filled with the mists of ocean. He was dead. 

IMMORTALITY. 

Man is immortal. What the schoolmen taught, 
What monks proclaim and ministers declare. 
That when the eyes are dim and heart is still 
The mind, a long-imprisoned, homesick bird. 
Breaks from its convoluted cage and soars 
To some fair clime of fountains, flowers and rest- 
Some realm of endless love and peace and joy — 
Is what no man can know. And still the monks 
Make merchandise of dreams, and pulpiteers 
Still sell their guesses in the market-place. 
And sorrowing women hurry with their coin 
To buy the precious stores of rhapsody. 

And yet is man immortal. So declare 

The holy gnostics of this later day 

Who zealously explore the cosmic realm : 



IMMORTATJTY. I57 

The sacred prophets of the crucible ; 
The priests who bow before the microscope ; 
The seers who baffle the Plutonian sphinx, 
And read aright the riddle of the rocks 
And eons count in Terra's wrinkled skin ; 
The undismayed apostles of the sky 
Who analyze the sun's embraided beam 
And weigh the light from flaming Regulus ; 
The patient martyrs with the scholar's torch 
Who humbly worship at the shrine of Truth. 
All these agree man wears upon his brow 
The triple crown of immortality. 

Eternal matter in perpetual flight ! 

The molecules that mould this throbbing heart, 

Ere passed to me for transitory use. 

Have filled the warp and woof of many a loom 

Sped by a ceaseless shuttle. They have danced 

And sparkled down the foamy cataract ; 

Have glowed in yellow cowslip of the vale. 

And clung with edelweiss to Jungfrau's cliff ; 

Have hid in sunless caverns of the earth 

Where granite swims upon a molten sea ; 

Have lurked beneath the reptile's poison-fang. 

And given voice to red-winged thunderbolt. 

And tinged with fluttering rose a maiden's lip, 

And blazed in furnaces of far-off suns, 

And floated on the tenuous nebula 

The cradle of a callow universe I 

And when my quivering pulses cease to throb 

The tireless atoms of this changeling heart 

Shall still dance down the vistas of the world 

And fill all measures of material life : 

Shall seek Cimmerian depths of nether seas ; 



158 THB PROPHKCY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Shall tip with gold the lily's crystal cup ; 

Shall sleep in dormant clod, awake in dew 

And carol in the thrush's cheery song ; 

Shall climb in succulent sap the vernal vine 

And feed, through fluttering leaves, the hungry air, 

And take siesta on the violet cloud. 

And visit all the macrocosm of worlds. 

I am Immortal ! 

The transmutations of the fluent earth 

Proclaim me indestructible — a part 

Of all that was, and is, and is to be ! 

Immortal Influence ! Whatsoe'er we totich 

Receives an impulse that can never die. 

As apple tossed but lightly from the hand, 

Ivifts up the Kartli to meet it as it falls — 

As each small drop we add to Ocean's cup 

Sculptures the head-land of remotest shores— 

As step of urchin shakes the planet's bulk 

And makes its orbit flutter — as a word 

Breathed on the palpitant air takes flight in waves 

That speed the simoon on Formosan seas. 

So largest feels the tangenc}' of least 

Where man doth meet and greet his fellow man. 

Kre man a biped stood, a crimson rose 

In sudden whirl of zones was rudely plucked 

And, thrust in icy cell, was floated far 

Through crystal centuries, till flung ashore 

On Albion's isle, a strange and radiant bloom, 

Since tuneful Tennyson touched his latest chord. 

Thus man, enshrined in law, goes drifting out — 

A waif on fluctuant tides of stormy seas. 

None liveth to himself. The band of fate. 

The sjiotless baldric of the Sisters Three, 



IMMORTAI.ITY. ^59 

Girds us around with striugent thews of force. 

Heredity unnerves Volition's arm, 

And on the anvil where we helpless cry, 

The clanging hammer of environment 

Gives shape fantastic. Others fashion us 

And we, in turn, mould others' lives for them. 

Each act becomes creative ; every word 

Like sculptor's burin upon plastic clay. 

As some bright star extinguished ages sinc^; 

And hurled, a darkling ember, down the void. 

Still sheds its lucent beam on mortal ga/.e, 

So we the last catastrophe survive 

And shine along the dear familiar paths. 

We are immortal ! 

Our influence, great or small or good or ill, 

Will live forever, ineffaceable, 

And on the future's sky our shadow fall 

Like spectre on the Brockeu's sunset mist. 

Immortal Thought ! Although the alluring dream 
That Consciousness can leap the Stygian gulf 
Should prove a foolish figment of the brain 
Wherewith we love to flatter vanity, 
Imperial Thought shall grant a lease eternc. 
Life's rosy gates stand open to the past ; 
For who recalls the hour or day of birth. ? 
Or week or month or year ? None woman-boru ! 
The thought runs back beyond the memory. 
We lived but have forgot. We saw and heard. 
But lo ! the precious garnered store was lost, 
Spilt through Mnemosyne's unfinished sieve. 
Yet sometimes now flit half-remembered things 
And twitter at the windows of our hearts, 
And plead for recognition ; Reverie 



l6o THK PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

Reminds us that we knew them in the days 

When Earth was young, ere Juno loved and wed 

Or tuneful Memnon sang to listening Dawn. 

Man is immortal ! 

For, leaping Recollection's utmost pale, 

The endless centuries of the sun are ouns 

And we are linked to past eternities. 

The Present I — fount of immortality ! 

Our far-off sires who fought with ravenous beasts 

And dressed in skins and dwelt in huts of clay, 

Embittered with their famished, wretched lives. 

Were wont to visit Fancy's radiant realm, — 

The Golden Age when life was always joy. 

When men were always wise and women good, 

And Earth was crowned with happiness supreme ; 

Or else, perchance, they dreamt of Paradise, 

And reveled in a future glorified. 

Where joyous souls, discumbered of their flesh.. 

In gorgeous palaces of precious stone 

Should feast at bounteous tables of the gods, 

With seraphim to set the viands on. 

Now ravenous beast is slain, hut grown to house, 

And famine desolates the earth no more. 

We win immortal victory over Pain ; 

W^e harness vSatan to our flying car ; 

We bridle the rebellious thunderbolt. 

Enslave all Nature's insubordinate powers, 

Give holiday to Labor, hope to Fear, 

And flaming apotheosis to man. 

Wc push our small horizon till it clasps 

The vast periphery of the universe. 

We lift our shallow sky till it contains 

All thrones of all the gods that men have made. 



IMMORTAI^ITY. l6i 

We build our Eden here ; we sip its springs ; 
Its tree of knowledge taste and find it good. 
We dwell in stately temples made with hands 
And walk the fields Elysian and rejoice. 
We ride the fiery chariot of the stars, 
And drink the dulcet ichor of the gods. 

O, halcyon Future ! None can taste of death. • 

Where we are loitering life alone can dwell. 

We hold to-morrow in perpetual fee : 

We warm ourselves beneath to-morrow's sun ; 

We taste to-morrow's motley sweets, we drink 

To-morrow's nectar, pluck to-morrow's flowers, 

And thrill beneath to-morrow's passion-gust. 

Ah, Plato, true ! Where we are death is not. 

Man is immortal ! 

The latest thought of my exhausted brain 

Shall toward the portals of to-morrow turn 

To watch the pageant of the unborn years. 

And when fatigued with watching till I sleep, 

And dreams are crowned with endless trance of rest,— 

When that supreme cerebral function, mind, 

(Puissant force short-circuited by Time) 

Shall cease to send out signals to the sense— 

The tireless atoms of this changeling heart 

Shall still dance down the vistas of the world. 

For some uns waddled babe, Prometheus 

Shall spin anew these vital filaments 

And weave a mantle of exuberant life. 

Thus to each nolde dauphin Science brings 
The triple crown of immortality : 
The endless whirl of sentient molecules ; 
The endless metamorphoses of touch ; 
The erdle.^s ranges of imperial Thought. 



l62 THE PROPHECY AND OTHER POEMS. 

So wheu the eyes are dim and pulses still, 

And change hath followed change in Protean whirl, 

When luminous skies, enlarged and lifted up, 

Resplendent turn to every source of light, 

When sweeter fountains cheer the arid plain 

And fairer fruits bedeck the tree of life. 

My soul shall sleep within the gates of Peace, 

And Silence, angel on the sentry tower, 

Shall signal to the weary, " All is well ! " 



NOTES. 



Note 1, page 1. 

This poem was writf.eu at the iuvitatiou of Hon. Thomas W. Palmer, President of 
th" Goliimbian Exposition, and his Committee on Program, and was effectively rjad 
at the inauguration of the fair ou May 1, 1893, by Jessie Couthoui, elocutionist, of 
Chicago. 

Note 2, page 9. 

There is nowhere a more charming hot-weather retreat than the Thousaiul 
Islands— those bits of greenness in the upper St. Lawrence where one finds beauty, 
approaching through spaciousness to something of grandeur, a quiet serenity, a pur- 
fect restfulness, a coolness day and night, even in midsummer, and countless charms 
which art has lavished in transforming the wild home of the Hurons. There arc 
1,692 islands, it is said, and they range iu size from the dimensions of a dinner-table 
to a solid park containing ten or fifteen square miles. But it is one of the laws of 
the locality that nothing shall be counted as an island which does not bear a tree. 



Note 3, page 15. 

Written at a breakfast-table at the request of a lady who partook of her two favorite 
dishes and wished them to be associated iu verse. 



Note 4, page 2-t. 

It has long seemed to me that a theory was needed which would explain thi^ high 
tides iu the Bay of Fundy and the Basin of Minas, and at the same time account for 
the mineral richness of their shores. Rare collections are made lh(n'c and several 
minerals are found which are not known elsewhere iu the world. They reveal au 
abundance of amethyst, a;,'ate, opal, calcite, aiiophylite, chalcedony, cat's-eyo^ 
jasper, stUbite, heulaudlte, magnetite, malachite, copi)er, obsidian, and quartz 
crystals of unusual coloring. 

Note 5, page 30. 

A religious contest was carried on from 1870 to 1880 over the body of Josepli (iiii- 
bord, of Montreal, to which burial with his relatives was prohibited on account of the 
heretical opinions which he was alleged to have entertained. His body was repeatedly 
dug up, transferred and stolen, and finally, it was said, his much harried bones were 
deliberately destroyed. 

Note 6, page 31. 

No explanation can here be added that would make this bit of x)leasantry very in- 
telligible to readers unacquainted with the institution referred to: those who have 
visited it do not need any explanation. 



i64 NOTES. 



Note 7, page 33. 



This celebrates an actual occurrence. Mr. Folger, President Arthur's Secretary of 
the Treasury, refused to commission Mary Miller as captain of a steamboat on the 
Missouri, though she had been serving in that capacity for months, during which 
time her husband, the owner of the craft, lay disabled in the cabin. 



Note 8, page 35. 

It was luy privilege to be of some service to General Fremont, in obtaining a 
publisher for his Memoirs. One day I expressjd to Mrs. Fremont surprise that 
the Pathfinder's romantic achievements had not inspired American poets to write 
something worth wliile ; whereupon she suddenly exclaimed : " Go and write it, sir ! " 
It was playfully spoken and heard ; but I cannot forbear reiterating my surprise, 
which has in no wise diminished. His personal career was an epic. 



Note 9, page 36. 

" I was named after niy father," said Secretary Lamar to me once in response to a 
question. " His mother's queer brother claimed the naming of the children, so he 
named my uncle Mirabeau Bonaparte and my fathcir Lucius Quintus Gurtius. For 
some reason, probably an agricultural one, the ' Gurtius ' was changed to ' Ginciu- 
natus.' I inherited the classic names. Well, it is all right, for they might have been 
Julius Caesar Brutus HauJiibal ! " Judge Lamar's uncle Mirabeau became President 
of Texas. 

Note 10, page 36. 

On Mr. Weed's eighty-fifth birthday I sent him this sonnet, with the explanatory 
word " Priam, you remember, was father of a hundred children— a fit type of your 
relation to the press of New York State." 



Note 11, page 37. 

This sonnet, translated from the Spanish, but inadequately reflects the veneration 
in which Benito Juarez is held in Mexico as " the Second Savior "—the revolutionary 
native chief, Hidalgo, of course, being the first. 



Note 12, page 38. 

Thomas Simms, a slave, eseapad from his owner at Savannah, Georgia, in 18.51, 
and made his way to Boston on a brig, concealing himself till near his journey's end. 
He was then locked into the cabin, but escaped ; was recaptured, but escaped again ; 
and on landing in Boston was arrested and imprisoned in the Gourt-House, the 
building being surrounded with chains and a cordon of police. Indignation meet- 
ings were held and abolitionists were arrested. After much public excitement and 
several street fights, he was adjudged to his owner on April 11. At Savannah he was 
handcuffed and whipped, and after several years of toil and suffering was sold to a 
Vicksburg bricklayer, from whom he escaped to Grant's victorious army in 1863. 
He was received with enthusiasm by the Union soldiers. 



NOTES. 165 

Note 13, page 40. 

Tuis smnmary of the curreut news of the year 1886 is preserved here merely as an 
effort in rhyming. 

Note 14, page 42. 

To make this intelligible it shouUl be explained that the impressive statue iu 
New York harbor, after it had been amid much public acclaim set upon its pedestal, 
was kept for many months unlighted through neglect or indifference on the part ol 
the City Council. The lamp did not burn because there was "nothing in it."' At 
last the statue was made technically a light-house by act of Congress, and has since 
been kept at a cost of $lO.O;JOa year to thv^ Federal Treasury. It is usually called 
" Liberty Enlightening the World," but by Bartholdi, who devised and made it, and by 
his couitrymen who presented it, it was mora prop^ly named " Liberty Lighting 
the World." 

Note 15, page 46. 

The Indian name of Lake Chamjilaiu was Petonbouiiue, and Cioorayuntee (now 
North Hero Island) was " the gateway" by which the Hurons and the Mohawks ap- 
proaclied each other. " Ticonderoga " is a modern corruption of " Clie-on-der-o-ga," 
meaning the-place-of-musie, in allusion to the tinkling sounds of th? adjacent river. 
Mohawk Rock, in Burlington harbor, was the boundary between the traditional foes. 
Pelot's Bay is a beautiful cove on the west side of North Hero, deep enough to 
shelter large yachts, and on "a slender tongue of sea-grass" at its mouth Mr. 
Timothy J. Sullivan and his friends, of Albany, have ranged their attractive and 
comfortable summer cottages. 

Note lU, page .51. 

Otsego Lake, New York, called by Cooper's Leathorstojking " the (jrlimmerglass," 
is the center of the forest realm which the great novelist populated with the creatures 
of his fancy. 

Note 17, page 53. 

Camiwbello is a beautiful island, in Passamaquoddy Bay, off the most easterly i)oint 
of the United States, and in the shallow water of its cool shores stands one of nature's 
tall mouoliths^a statue of rock some fifty feet high with a huge knob at its top. 
It has a fanciful resemblance to a human being walking on the beach and is a con- 
spicuous landmark to skippers on the Bay of Fuudy. Far and wide it is known 
as " the Friar of Campobello." 

Note 18, page 57. 

Cape Despair is a dangerous and dreaded headland projected into the Gulf of St. 
Lawrence. Off this point perished the British fleet at the beginning of the last 
century, and among the natives stories are still current of the ghostly survivors o' 
the fleet and the occasional reappearance of its cruel admrraL 



l66 NOTES. 

Note 19, page 63. 

Mount Hope, on Bristol peninsula, the liighest headland in Bhode Island, was the 
ancient seat of Metacomot— " King Philip"— the indomitable chief of the Wampa- 
noags and Sachem of Pokauoket. When, after a long and bloody war, he was con- 
quered and killed at the head of his tribe, his wife — Queen Wootonckanusky — wa.s 
dragged from her home ou Mount Hope to Plymouth Bay, and sold into slavery in 
the Barbadoes. 

Note 20, page 70. 

" Lovers' Leap, a high cliff in Derby, overlooking the confluence cf the Hoosatonic 
and Naugatuck rivers, and covered with great oaks and evergreens, was a favorite 
rendezvous of friendly tribes and ia still the scene of much romantic legend." — 
Sketches of Connecticut. 

Note 21, page 71. 

Written on the arrival of the French steamer, Isure, with the colossal statue of 
" Freedom Lighting the World," — the Sew York World having secured the erection 
of the pedestal. 

Note 22, page 77. 

This song, set to " Lauriger Horatius," was written to celebrate a memorable 
cruise up the coast of New England on the beautiful yacht Falcon, in the summer of 
1884, with Mr. Hufus T. Bush, the owner, and his family. (See, also, "A Salt Sea 
Specter," page 94, " The Secret of the Tides," " The Story of Cape Despair," etc.) 



Note 23, page 81. 

" Pcrhaijs," a s(;rious fancy suggested by the death of a briglit little boy, the cliild 
of a friend and nc'ij^hbor, Julm llabberton, may bo said to bo the reflection of an 
earlier mood ; if wiittou later, its title might have been "Probably Not." Si^veral 
earlier poems on deatli have been omitted from this book because the feeling.s and 
opinions in which they originated arc no longer entertained by me. 



Note 24, page 88. 

This i)layful Yankee salutation was sugg<!sted by tho visit of that eulighleued 
monarch, Dom Pedro, to our shores, in 1876. 



Note 25, page 102. 

In explanation of these versos it is noxiessary to give pl;u;(! here to tho war-cry of 
Bishop A. Cleveland Coxe, to which they were intended asan answer. This is, as will 
be seen, a theological appeal of Christianity against Mohammedanism, along seC' 
tarian lines : 



NOTRS. 167 



Trump of the Lord ! I hear it blow ! 
Forward the Cross; thu world shall kuuw 
Jehovah's arm's against the foe ; 
Bowu shall the cursed Crescent go ! 
To anus ! To arms ! 
God wills it so! 

God help the Iluss ! God bless the Ozar ! 
Shame on the swords that tradw can mar! 
Shame on the laggar Js, faint and I'ur, 
That rise not to th'; lioly war ! 
To arms ! To arms ! 
The Gross our Star. 

How long, O Lord ! for Thou art just ; 
Vengeance is Thine ; in Tliee we tru-it ; 
Wake ! arm of God ! and dash to dust 
Those hordes of rapine and of lust. 
To arms ! To arms ! 

Wake, swords that rust ! 

Forward (he Cross ! Break, clouds of ire ! 
Break with th<! thunder and the tire ! 
To new Crusadis l,t Kaitli inspire; 
Down with tlje Cresttent (o the mire! 
To arms ! To arms ! 
To veugeanci! dh-e ! 

To high Stand)oul that Cross restore ! 
Glitter its glori<'s as of yore. 
Down with the Turk ! From Europe's slmre 
Drive back the Paynim, drunk with ^ore. 
To arms — to arms — 

To arms ouce more ! 



In this connection it may be proper to publish the following letter which I received 
f I'om the beloved poet of peace : 

Mv Dear Fuiend: Thanks for thy spirited and Christian verses in reply to the 
war-inciting bishop. Thy lines are timely. I wish our literature was less eulogistic 
of bloodshed. Well would it be if our poets sang only tlu! bloodless victories of love 
ami good-will. I remember a passage in Ossian : 

" The battle ceased along the plain. 

For the bards had sung the song of peace." 

Truly thy friend, 

JOHN G. WHITTIER. 

Note 26, page 122 . 

I never was satisfied with Whittier's poam " St. John," for it seemed inadequate to 
cover the historical facts in the case. So, after assembling and correlating these, 
visiting the old fort at the old city and listening to the surviving traditions, and 
introducing our weak humau nature as an element, I have hung them in the 
rhvthmlcal frame to which this note refers. 



